Call Me Home
by NightmarePrince
Summary: Lily Luna Potter was forced to flee Britain in order to protect her son, Orion Malfoy, over a decade ago. Her lover Scorpius has lost hope that she will ever return, especially seeing as everyone believes her dead following the Cataclysm. Can she prove to him that he can still trust her, whilst all the while a sinister new Cult has been formed. Part2 of the Lord of Shadows Series.
1. Prologue

**Call Me Home**

**Prologue**

Selena Rivers sighed deeply as she stepped through the fireplace in a burst of emerald flame, worn out by her long day working at the American Ministry. It had been several years since the cataclysm had changed the face of the world but the effort of rebuilding was still ongoing. Selena thought she ought to count herself lucky, whilst America had been devastated quite badly by the events there was no doubt that Europe had suffered the worst, seeing as the enigmatic Lord of Shadows had been standing upon the fabled Astronomy Tower of Hogwarts when he invoked the damnation that came close to destroying the world.

She was lucky that she lived in one of the inland states, had she lived near the coast there was a very real chance that she and her son would both be listed as casualties of the series of magically induced tsunami's that had struck the eastern seaboard back then. She sighed, wondering what her fate would have been had she been in Britain at the time of the cataclysm.

She paused in her musings, seemingly drawn to one of the few picture frames that were not devoted to pictures of her eleven year old son, a picture of four children sitting side by side on the grass outside a towering home which was no doubt held up by magic. A memory from her what she now viewed as a past life was triggered, idly she remembered how fond she had once been off spending time at _The Burrow._

She wondered if the family home was still standing.

But it was the three boys who sat beside the girl who had once been her that drew her attention. They had once been her brothers, during the life when she had been known as Lily Luna Potter, before she had been forced to flee the country for fear of her unborn son's life. She glossed over the one whose hair was turquoise blue who sat furthest to the right; he was the strongest and most resilient of her former brothers. She felt a pang of longing that she had not seen him in so many years but she knew that Teddy would be ok.

Teddy would always be ok.

Her eyes were drawn however to the two boys sitting on either side of her, their arms lazily slung over her shoulders as they nestled their baby sister between them. There were bright smiles of all three faces; she wondered when last they had smiled so cheerfully. Of the three Potters only one remained and from what she had heard, in gossip magazines and on the wizard wireless, she knew that the last had become a ghost of himself.

What had they become beneath the stain of time?

A lost one, long since fled; a second dead at the hands of the third. The Potter children; were they not a tale to make grown men weep like squalling infants. What of their parents, or more specifically her mother – for Selena had no father; Lily had had one, but he had been a monster and Selena thus refused to carry him with her into this life. Let him stay rotting in his cell in Azkaban for what he did, for tearing their family apart and breaking them all to pieces so tiny it had taken years for her to rebuild.

She hoped that her mother was doing well but once again the media had shown the truth in pictures, and Selena had wept to see her mother so wan and shattered. Then again what could she expect, Ginevra had lost a son, seen another commit fratricide whilst her daughter was as good as dead to her.

She shook her head sadly at the thoughts before making her way to her neighbour's apartment, knocking thrice before it swung open to reveal a plump, elderly woman who was also her landlady. A few pleasantries were exchanged before she collected her son from the old lady's care, the woman was glad to watch Ryan while Selena was at work. Marsha, that was her name, claimed it gave her someone to dote on now that all her children had children of their own and lived in other states.

As usual, her heart gave a painful spasm when she saw her son. She couldn't help it, he looked so much like his father that there were days when she wanted to tear out her heart and memories so she wouldn't have to feel the pain that accompanied her past. She had been expected to return as soon as the world was made safe for her and her son, as soon as her bigoted father had been dealt with so that he and his band of followers couldn't do her son any harm.

But she found that she couldn't, not when going home meant she would have to confront the graves of her brother and nephew – the nephew nobody had ever known, another crime to lay at her father's feet – not when going home meant she would have to speak to James. She knew he had done what he did to save the world but how could she look into his eyes without thinking of Albus, whose life's blood no doubt still stained James' palms. She had promised herself she would return when she was strong enough to deal with the anguish that would surely come.

Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, she had never considered herself strong enough to go home.

Taking their leave of Marsha, she hugged her son tightly, ignoring his muffled protests as his face was squeezed into her shoulder by the force of her embrace. He was used to her hugs, although he often now complained that he was a big boy and didn't need such strong displays of motherly affection. He would cease making the argument when Selena spoke to him at length and told him that he was the only person in the world that she had left to love.

Orion Draco Potter-Malfoy, or Ryan Drake Rivers as his forged birth certificate read knew all about his father and uncles because Selena had decided on a policy of honesty with her son. She didn't want him to think that his father was a deadbeat who had abandoned them but she had also selfishly used her brother's actions to make him sympathetic as to why they couldn't go back to her former home now that the dust had cleared. She hadn't wanted him to think that she was keeping him away from his father either.

His actual birth records had been sealed as part of the arrangements made by her brother when he had first helped her flee Britain which she was duly grateful for. She didn't know if Ryan's father was still looking for them, but had he be been doing so the name Orion Malfoy wasn't exactly common now was it?

Ryan Rivers on the other hand was very nondescript.

She was just serving dinner when a tapping on the window caught her attention and her breath caught in her throat as Ryan flung open the window to permit the messenger bird entry. Her heart thudding in her chest, she snatched the letter and tore it open while hoping it was a mistake and not really what she thought it was.

_Because every envelop in the world is watermarked with a badger, an eagle, a lion and a snake_, a snide voice in her head whispered. She chewed her lip as her eyes flitted over the address; Ryan was looking at her most curiously now. She snapped and gestured at his spaghetti, instantly feeling guilty at the wounded look in his eyes.

She knew it was coming but her heart still sank as she read the folded parchment that she had extricated from the envelope.

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_Headmistress: Professor Rose Hermione Zabini_

_(Grand Sorceress of the Outcast's; honorary member of the Wizengamot; Order of Merlin, Third Class)_

_Dear Mr Potter-Malfoy_

_We are pleased to inform you . . ._

(*)(*)(*)

Scorpius Malfoy woke that morning with a heavy heart, his eyes cracking open as the first rays of dawn shone through his bedroom window, illuminating his tangled sheets with their warm glow. He sighed as he rose, moving gently so as not to disturb his girlfriend who still lay caught in peaceful dreams that only night could bring. He had been with her for a year now, after his brother Hugo had sat him down and told him in no uncertain terms that whilst it was admirable that he was still so devoted to Lily, who nobody in the family had seen for the past eleven years it was time for him to move on because he was still young, not yet thirty, and he needed to stop clinging to the notion that Lily would be coming home.

They didn't even know if she was alive, the cataclysm had killed so many people worldwide that the chances were both she and his son – the son he had never known – had perished when the tsunami's had struck America. Scorpius knew that his entire family had thought this about him, that he was wasting away, but until Hugo nobody had been so frank with him.

He had both loved and hated his brother in that moment, loved him because he was his brother who was only looking out for him and hated him for being right. Because it had been over a decade now and every fibre of his being told him she would never be coming home. He had agreed to date again only because Hugo had brought up how he was becoming like Cassiopeia, their sister who still lived in mourning for her husband who had been manipulated by the darkness into trying to destroy the world.

He didn't love Adrianna, but he liked her and believed that maybe someday he would come to love her. His parents, Astoria and Draco, had been an arranged match and they had had years of happiness before their eventual divorce – a divorce which had only taken place because they both had decided that they would rather be truly in love than just happy.

He had already been in love so therefore it only made sense that now he make a match with a woman for the sole purpose of being happy. And he knew that he could be happy if he tried, so he was trying with Adrianna Zabini; who was also his sister-in-law because her brother (one of his best friends) Delphin had married his half-sister Rose.

His other reason for dating again was that he wanted what his siblings had. Hugo and Francesca had just had their first child, a young girl named Alexandria – Hugo hadn't wanted to continue the Black Family tradition and name his son after a constellation. His cousin Katherine Avery, married to another of his best friends, Xavier, had two sons of her own: Matthew and Riley. Kat had also been a surrogate for Rose and Delphin, who now had twin girls: Violet and Syrena.

It was what he wanted, he wanted a family but most of all he wanted a child. True, he already had a son but Lily had taken Orion before he had been born and both had fled to escape her father's wrath. She could have come home at any time in the past six years though, seeing as how Harry Potter and his greatest lieutenant Ronald Weasley were both incarcerated in the Black Cells of Azkaban. But she had remained abroad, possibly dead, but Scorpius would like to think that he would feel it if his son had passed from the world of the living.

He had often contemplated travelling to America to find them but had never been able to do so. Britain was still so badly scarred by the cataclysm and he, as the head of Malfoy Holdings, was crucial in the restoration effort. At the same time it felt like a betrayal to leave the land of his best friend's grave, it was what kept him here. Loyalty to Albus' ambition, even though he was now dead and gone ensured that Scorpius remained dutifully dedicated to continuing his cause.

He slid open his desk drawer and retrieved a well-worn photograph, a baby with eyes of copper fire and a shock of platinum blonde hair waving fat fists at the camera and his heart gave a pang.

His boy, his son, he would be old enough to start Hogwarts this year . . .

He closed his eyes, he had grown to adore children over the years, having basically been a father figure to his niece Aurora, who was now six years old. It hurt to look at Aurora sometimes, to see her mother's beauty reflected in her father's obsidian hair and emerald eyes. Her eyes now.

He often wondered how his nephew Leo would have looked had he not been slain in the womb. Then again, he would rather not know. He had seen his nephew only once, an illusion of what he would have looked like through polyjuice and malice – it had been what had driven Albus to insanity and broken his sister to the verge of suicide. The only thing that had stayed Cassiopeia's razor blade had been her daughter; Aurora was the only person that kept his sister alive these days.

He looked at the picture again, another thought occurring to him as he stared at the giggling baby who had just stuffed his fist into his drooling mouth. Orion would have been the eldest, Leo would have been just a few years younger and off an age with Matthew.

How many potential friendships had been destroyed because of Harry Potter's inability to let go of his bigoted past. How many of his generation had been scarred? His sister for one, his brother-in-law James another – James had been forced to murder his own brother, Scorpius pitied, respected and loathed him for it.

Because Albus had been more than his brother-in-law and the father of his niece, Albus had been his best friend and not a day went by when he did not feel the emptiness from having lost somebody who he had been so close too. He remembered Hugo telling him what Francesca had told him when Claire Williams had been murdered.

"The people who love you never leave you, you never get over, you just have to learn to move on."

How fucking true was that?

So Scorpius stood at his desk, watching the sun rise whilst fingering the picture of his son, he loved the night and the dawn. But he hated what came after the sun rose, he hated the day because then he had to live . . .

Live in a world without the woman he loved, the son he had never met and the man who had become his brother before becoming a God.

(*)(*)(*)

A ghostly hand, pale and gossamer rose from the still waters of the Black Lake. Slowly, as if cautious and clumsy, the spirit rose broke the surface and stood on the edge of the shoreline, feeling the light of the sun for the first time in years.

She was not a Shadow who had been raised and corrupted by a dark magic, she was purer. A soul who had returned to the world of the living by her own choice, she was a Daemon, the counterpart of a Shadow.

For where their silhouettes where dark as night and their eyes red as blood, she held herself with the same beauty she had had in life. Despite her skin glowing with an ethereal white glow, despite the cresting waves of celestial light that made her seem translucent there was no mistaking her ruby tresses and emerald green eyes.

She was less than human, lacking physical presence, and yet she was more than any mere ghost.

Her grandson had, in his insanity, torn a thousand Shadows from the World of the Dead and then released them onto the world when he had died. Whilst many had been pulled back behind the Veil, there were still a few that had clung to their perverted semblance of life. She was just thankful that Tom Riddle was not amongst those who had been strong enough to remain tethered to the world.

Even though the world was still healing from the wounds wrought by her grandson, wounds that had only been incurred because of her own son, she knew that mankind was resilient. There were over six billion people on the planet, an abundance of life still existing even though millions had died in the wake of The Lord of Shadows.

But evil was also resilient and it was gaining a foothold in the world.

Because when Albus had gone insane and raised the legion of Shadows to fester within his heart, he had unknowingly damaged the Seals cast upon The Doors of Death.

And if Lily Evans Potter –who had been sent back to atone for the sins of her descendants – did not find a way to stop The Dark Lady, she knew that the entire world may soon descend into blood, shadow and fire.

A/N

_Well hello again my dear readers, I hope you're enjoying the sequel to "The Good Son" so far. This story takes place six years after the events of "The Good Son" but runs compliant with the epilogue._

_Please bear in mind that the concepts of life and death, love and hate, forgiveness and in some cases the afterlife all play heavily on the series. I hope this does not offend any of you. _

_I hope you all enjoy this story which will be about ten-fifteen chapters. _

_Remember to leave me your thoughts in a review; I want to see what you think of this new arc of the story._


	2. Chapter 1

**Call Me Home**

**Chapter One**

**To Feel Again**

Hermione smiled as she got into bed beside her husband, absently noting how pleasant it felt for the Manor to be completely silent for once. It wasn't often that the air was free from the sounds of children bickering, playing and running around the many rooms whilst wreaking their signature youthful havoc. Not that Hermione minded babysitting her grandchildren whilst her children were at work; it was just getting quite tiring now that she was not as spry as she had once been.

True she was only middle-aged by wizarding standards but that didn't mean looking after four children whilst she was in her mid-fifties was an easy task. Rose's girls had been born troublemakers and Hermione had no doubt that they would one day be known as the female counterpart to the famous Weasley twins. They delighted in trying to thicken the strands of grey that wove through her chocolate brown curls.

She thanked Merlin that whilst Aurora was mischievous, she was also a relatively well-behaved child who preferred quietly painting in her room to joining her cousins on their numerous escapades. She was much like her mother in that way, silent yet deadly. Aurora's magic was already very advanced for such a young child, no doubt due to the fact that both her parents had been exceptionally talented in the art but it still stunned Hermione whenever she walked into the room to see her granddaughter summoning something from a high shelf that would be otherwise out of her reach.

Alexandria, her youngest grandchild by her youngest son, was a little under a year old and as such required constant supervision and care. Her grandchildren had been what had motivated her to resign from her job as Head of The Department of Experimental Magic at Malfoy Holdings and become a fulltime housewife. What with Cassiopeia running the Potions Department of the family business, Scorpius running the business as a whole, Rose being the Headmistress of Hogwarts and Hugo being Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at the Ministry they all needed there to be somebody trustworthy to babysit for them.

Hermione was quite thrilled to take up that role and though she never regretted it, there were days when the four children under her care made her want to tear out her hair in exasperation. It was worse on the days when Matthew and Riley Avery were left at the Manor for a play-date with the others because when you combined the Avery Brothers with the Zabini Twins you had a ready-made recipe for potential disaster.

It was not that they didn't get along; it was that they got along perhaps a tad too well that was what worried her. Because she was never sure as to when one of their schemes would be in action, they were a well-oiled machine and Draco often commented that they would make excellent cat burglars.

However, today had been a harder day than most. She had gone to Aurora's bedroom to give her a glass of pumpkin juice and to check if she was ok only to find her sitting beside her child-sized easel and painting. When she had looked at the picture she had felt her heart throb painfully in her chest and she had had to bite her lip to keep from emitting a sob.

Aurora had painted a picture of her family, but it was the nature of the picture that had caused Hermione such emotional pain. The girl had often painted pictures of her mother and herself before but in this particular portrait . . . there was a man with black hair and green eyes, lifting a dark-haired girl into the sky. Beside the pair stood a blonde woman who was smiling at them, to her left stood a tall blonde boy with the same green eyes as Aurora and Albus, though it was chased with Malfoy silver. The picture was clumsy; her youthfulness shown off in the inexperienced painting but Hermione could tell that she had a real talent for art.

The picture was of the family that Aurora should have had . . . had Harry Potter not intervened and destroyed their happiness.

"What's wrong, 'Mione?" asked Draco as he contemplated the pained look in his wife's eyes.

"Just thinking," she replied, and he nodded because he understood. Albus had been like a third son to him, Leo would have been his second grandchild . . . the couple didn't often talk about them because it hurt too much to do so.

"Rose popped by the office today," he said after a brief lull in the conversation and Hermione frowned at the hopeful spark that had appeared in Draco's eyes. Her husband was the Minister of Magic and was often very busy, especially as Britain was still healing from the scars wrought by the Cataclysm and so it was rare for any of the children to visit him at work.

"And?" asked Hermione warily, apprehensive as to what it could be that had gotten him so excited. The last time she had seen that look on his face was a year ago when he had found about muggle sky-diving and insisted the two of them do it.

Hermione still maintained that that had been their worst anniversary to date.

She contemplated the man lying in bed beside her, considering what it could be that had him in such high spirits. There was no denying that he was still a very handsome man, despite his age. Yes the platinum may have dulled to grey and the corners of his eyes may be crinkled but to her he was still the most attractive man in the world.

"The Quill of Acceptance penned a new name into the Book of Admittance at Hogwarts," he said with a bright smile. Hermione looked at him thoughtfully for a moment; the Quill and the Book were both Hogwarts relics that had been enchanted by the founders of the school. They were sentient in that they could pick up magical signatures and it was the quill which wrote the Hogwarts Acceptance Letters every year – on its own with no person having to hold it – both were locked in one of the private towers of the school.

But the quill only then entered a name into the book when it was confirmed that a child would be attending the school; how the quill knew this had never been determined but not once in a thousand years had either magical instrument been incorrect.

But why was Draco so excited about this? It was not as though they knew any eleven year ol–

Hermione's eyes widened, her mouth opening in a small "o" of realisation as her brain made the necessary calculation and associations. It had been eleven years since _she_ had left . . . didn't that mean that _he_ must be eleven by now.

"They're coming home?" she asked, her voice barely audible as happiness flooded her veins – Scorpius would be thrilled. The boy deserved some happiness in his life; he had lost so much whilst still so young. She had frowned at his relationship with Adrianna Zabini but held her tongue, it seemed to her that Scorpius was trying to force himself to love her. But that wasn't how things worked because Hermione had learned long ago that love had a will of its own.

"Yes," Draco grinned from ear-to-ear, "Our grandson is coming home."

(*)(*)(*)

Selena stifled a yawn as she made her way through airport security with Orion, who seemed for the most part dead on his feet. They were both jetlagged and exhausted to the point where she had no qualms about subtly casting a few _confundus_ charms on the unsympathetic security guards who were insisting she remove her boots, jewellery and gloves.

Did they not care that she was a single mother whose eleven year old son was about ready to curl up and fall asleep on the floor beside them? There was also the fact that she simply could not allow them to scan her handbag which was enchanted with an undetectable expansion charm. She doubted she would be able to explain how she had managed to fit in all their clothing and possessions into a bag which seemed to weigh little more than a feather.

What did they expect though? She was a witch and there was no way in hell that she was prepared to pay the exorbitant customs duties that always accompanied moving abroad the muggle way. She had also opted not to travel by any magical means lest someone from her past see her when she arrived. She wanted to be fully settled into her new apartment before having to face the inevitable confrontations with her family.

"I'm tired, mum," complained Orion as they made their way to the small airport coffee shop. Selena planned to apparate to their new apartment and doubted she would be able to muster up the energy and concentration required for the journey unless she had caffeine in her system.

"I know, Ryan," she said wearily, "Let's just get something to eat and then I can get us to our new place." Orion grumbled but fell silent; he could see that his mother wasn't faring much better than he was and so decided not to add to her stress. Blinking his eyes a few times to try and clear the gritty feeling in them, he gratefully sank into the booth beside his mother.

Selena sighed as she placed their orders, a black coffee for her and a soda for Orion and groaned when she looked up from the menu to ask him what he wanted to eat only to find that he was already asleep, his head laying on its side on the slightly sticky table.

"Two toasted cheese sandwiches," she said to the waitress, who nodded sympathetically – no doubt she had seen her fair share of jetlagged children – before taking off for the kitchen. Selena leaned back against the stiff seat and closed her eyes, eager for a few minutes respite when suddenly she felt the booth dip beside her. Her eyes flared open as her hand flew to her chest, her heart beating in shock at the sudden intrusion before she caught sight of her guest. Selena barely kept herself from pouting as she contemplated the veela gazing expectantly at her.

"Well what do you know," grinned Louis, his bright blue eyes flashing cheekily as he drank in the sight of his long-lost cousin, "Look who finally decided to come home." Selena groaned, of all the people to run into on her first day back she had been chanced upon by her impishly mischievous cousin. Then again . . . it could have been James or her mother and Merlin knew she wasn't ready to see either of them yet.

"Louis Weasley," she managed a faint smile, she had been quite close to the strawberry blonde back in her youth and deep down she was glad that he looked well. In fact, he seemed to have just gotten home from a tropical vacation judging by his glowing tan.

"Its Weasley-Jordon now," he smirked, fingering a diamond ring on his finger and gesturing at a dark skinned man who was had just walked in, hefting two heavy looking suitcases at his sides. Selena studied him for a moment before her mouth dropped open in recognition. Joshua Jordan had been one of her eldest brother's best friends during their Hogwarts days. She hadn't even known he was gay.

Then again, she hadn't known that Louis played for that team either.

"Nana Molly must have loved that," she said, easily falling back into the comfortable relationship she had once had with Louis. She couldn't help it; there was something about him that just made her feel like they were thirteen and fourteen again and hiding from their parents after raiding their grandmother's pantry.

"She's just disappointed that she misses out on the great-grandchildren," snorted Louis, before his eyes widened as they fell on Orion. He let out a low whistle as the boy shifted in his sleep slightly – Selena could only marvel that her son had so far managed to stay slumbering, what with Louis' naturally loud voice.

"Speaking of great-grandchildren," he said with a teasing smirk on his face, "Is this the mystery kid who caused you to ditch us?" There was a hint of bitterness in his voice though and Selena felt the pang in her heart that always accompanied the realisation as to just how much she had hurt her family by leaving without a word of goodbye.

"You know why I had to run," she said in a quiet voice and was relieved when he nodded.

"You did what you had to do," he replied, a faint smile on his face as his husband slid into the booth beside him. Selena couldn't help but smile at the sight of the chaste peck Louis placed on Joshua's cheek before both men turned to face her again. They were so obviously in love that it brought a tear to her eye as she remembered how in love she and Scorpius had been.

"Lily Luna Potter," Joshua's eyes widened as soon as their gazes met, "You grew up fast."

Lily smiled as her food arrived and Louis placed their own order would the waitress, very soon the three adults were conversing as though she had never left in the first place. A half-hour later when she turned to rouse Orion so that they could leave she was stunned yet heartened that Louis and Joshua both stood up with her and offered to side-along apparate her and Orion to their apartment – which was incidentally in the same neighbourhood as their own.

Lily couldn't help the tears of happiness that fell from her face as she hugged her cousin goodbye – though only after giving in to his demands and promising that they would come over for dinner. She had missed this feeling, the feeling that could only come from being around one's family.

The feeling of home.

(*)(*)(*)

Cassiopeia closed her eyes as she lay back in her bed, her silky platinum hair tousled gently by the light breeze of wind that accompanied _his _manifestation. The room was in much the same way as it had been six years ago, back when they had been happy together, when _he _had been alive. Emerald green sheets and curtains, walls painted a deep brown, the colour of home and hearth. The furnishings were simple yet elegant, the only major difference were the picture frames depicting the various stages of her daughter's life.

Her eyes opened and he was there, or rather, the Shadow of him lay beside her upon the silken sheets. He was dark as midnight, translucent as the darkness which composed his silhouette, a perverse outline of the man he had been in life. The only recognizable feature, save for his outline and dishevelled hair, were those green eyes glimmering like two starlit emeralds.

"Hey, Albus," she murmured softly, a wan smile on her face as she turned to lie on her side so that she could face him. He looked back at her sadly but reached out nonetheless, his icy palm moving to cup her cheek. The cold burned her skin but she didn't flinch, she was used to his grave-stained touches now.

"Cassie . . ." his voice was a whisper, faint and sorrowful but still _his._ She knew it was wrong to keep him bound to the world of the living; she knew he didn't want it but dammit she needed him. He wasn't supposed to have died; he was supposed to have been here with her, alive, raising their daughter together.

_Why did you have to die?_

The question on her mind whenever she missed him . . . and the only time she missed him was when she was breathing.

"Aurora painted a picture of us today," she told him, her eyes growing misty as she saw his shadowy lips curl into a smile.

"I . . . saw . . . beautiful," his words were disjointed; he had been kept on earth for so long without nourishment that he was fading. As a Shadow he couldn't die, but without being able to consume blood or darkness he lost what little semblance of life that she had given him when she brought him back from Death's sweet embrace.

And Albus refused to consume either of those things, so she was forced to watch him wane whilst unable to let him go. It broke her heart to pieces. Because yes her husband may have been the darkest wizard to ever live, but he had died as he lived, a hero.

"It was beautiful," she agreed softly, "She looks so much like you, Al. She would have been a daddy's girl if you were still here."

"My . . . girls," he whispered, and she knew he was talking about their daughter and herself, "Love you . . . both . . . so much."

"I love you too, Albus," she said, her voice breaking as her tears began to fall. He smiled that same sad smile as he put a freezing arm around her waist and lulled her to sleep by his familiar presence alone. She bit back a gasp as she huddled into her blankets, crying softly into a shoulder that wasn't truly there as she slowly was drawn away from conscious thought to dwell safely in the land of dreams. The Shadow vanished when she fell asleep, reappearing on the window seat where he could watch over her for the night as he always did.

In her sleep she moved, her arm sliding to grasp for her husband that was not there. A pained expression flitted across peaceful face as she subconsciously realised that the other half of her bed was empty, and there not even an indentation to indicate it had ever been filled.

"Cassie. . ." he said her name like a prayer as he kept his vigil, his ghostly tears falling like shards of black ice to shatter upon the floor.

(*)(*)(*)

Katherine Avery shook her head as she reached home, exhausted from a long day at work. Upon leaving Hogwarts she had taken a job at Malfoy Holdings in their financial department but after Albus had passed she had discovered the need to help prevent such tragedies from ever occurring again. Much to her husband's horror she had then applied to Hugo Malfoy at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and had then been accepted to work in his new division. The distinction was that she did not work for The Order – that division of law enforcement that existed in the same manner as the FBI did in America – nor did she work for the Aurors. Kat was a fully licensed field agent for Ghost Division, a highly secretive network that conducted assignments which were too delicate for the aurors to handle.

Ghost Division was perhaps the most enigmatic organization since the Outcasts had first rose to power and was in fact the brainchild of that particular movement. Kat often came home with a bitter taste in her mouth, although she always knew that her actions were helping protect the people she loved and the world at large it didn't help when she contemplated all those who she had been forced to kill.

It had been a hard day; there were numerous intelligence reports about a strange new cult gathering on the fringes of society and from what she had heard of them, it made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Director Blaise Zabini was exceptionally nervous about the movement – it would seem he had already lost two agents investigating their movement.

The loss of two of their number had driven a steel spike through Kat's heart, Ghost Division was a very small organization and there were only fifty agents at most, all of whom were exceptionally close to each other because most of them had no real family of their own due to the nature of their work. Kat was one of the rare few who had a husband and children waiting for her at home.

Pushing thoughts of the strange cult to the back of her mind, she quickly started on dinner as she knew that her boys would be very hungry when they got home. Xavier was picking them up from her mother's house tonight – Daphne Nott doted on her grandsons – and they were quite the prodigious eaters. Matthew was eight, Riley was six and between the two of them they could often eat more than Xavier and her put together. She envied them for that, that they could eat so much and yet somehow never gain a single pound. It must be an Avery trait, she mused as she began dicing the chicken. Even though Xavier was now thirty he was still as thin and wiry as he had been at fifteen.

She heard the fireplace roar in the background, accompanied by the loud arguing of her sons and the wearied attempts of her husband to separate them. She smirked, whilst Xavier could cut people to the bone with his cynic and sarcasm he had never mastered the art of disciplining their children. She was the figure of authority where Matt and Riley were concerned and both children housed a healthy fear for their mother, even though they both knew she was only strict because she loved them.

Because of their youthfulness they had no idea as to the nature of her work, she could almost imagine how easily they would let it slip that their mother was for all intents and purposes a secret agent.

Her in-laws would be horrified . . . they thought she still managed the finances at Malfoy Holdings. Her mother-in-law made regular complaints about her apparent lack of ambition as it were; maybe it would kill the old bat to learn that Kat could snap a finger and the crone's entire life would be erased from society without a single question asked. Kat smiled at the thought, she really had never gotten along with Lady Avery.

"Hey," said Xavier as he walked into the kitchen, the boys in tow. He paused only long enough to peck her cheek before disappearing to his room to change. Due to him working in the Department of Experimental Magic he was often filthy by the time he got home. Kat fondly remembered the time he had accidently ingested Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder and started to glow in the dark because of the way it reacted with the iron in his blood.

"And what exactly is the argument about today, boys?" she asked , raising an eyebrow at her sons who were shooting dirty looks at each other.

"He started it!" whined Riley, sticking out his lip in a well-practiced pout. He had inherited her knack for manipulation and whilst it worked on almost everybody else it failed dismally when directed at her. After all, the student could never hope to defeat the master.

"Liar!" scowled Matthew, sticking out his tongue at his brother, "He's the one who said that I can't fly."

"You're the one who stole Grandpa Theo's broomstick," pointed out Riley.

"You told me where he hid it," accused Matthew.

"But I didn't tell you to take it."

"Yes you did! You said I was a chicken if I didn't!"

"I swear I will bend you both over my knee if you both don't hug and make-up," said Kat sternly, not looking up from the pasta that was now simmering on the stove, "You two are brothers so start behaving like it." Their arguments were a particular sore point to her, she had seen firsthand the damage caused by James and Albus' volatile relationship and she prayed every night that that did not happen to her own sons.

She often felt pity for Ginny Weasley, and wondered how she would feel if it were her boys who had stood at the top of that tower all those years ago. On nights like those when she found herself succumbing to dark thoughts, she would drift away from the conversation and stare moodily at her food. Then Matthew would break her from her despondent reverie by flicking a spoonful of vegetables at his brother who would soon respond in kind. Kat was very sure if she was not present then Xavier would be throwing his food at them as well. Her husband was still a child at heart; he was one of the few people who would be forever young.

But they were her boys . . . and she wouldn't trade them for the world.

(*)(*)(*)

_A/N: Ok so that's Chapter One, I hope you all liked it – Please drop me a review if you did. _

_Also, who is your favourite OC: Cass? Xav? Kat? Del? _

_I have a question for you though: I have a three-quarter written short companion piece for the series written titled "The Saltwater Rose" which is the Delphin/Rose story of their brief break-up in Book One "The Good Son." I am wondering if you would like me to publish it now, in between updates of Call Me Home or after this story is done but before Book 3. Please let me know. _


	3. Chapter 2

**Call Me Home**

**Chapter Two**

**Chance Encounters**

A soft cloud of smoke breezed out of James' office window as he stood looking out over the crowded magical street that was Diagon Alley, a half-smoked muggle cigarette in his hand. Alison hated the habit and had made sure to tell him so at every available opportunity until he had snapped and told her the reason as to why he smoked. He smoked because it reminded him of Albus, it gave him a sense that he was still holding onto his baby brother.

He even smoked the same brand that his brother had.

He knew it seemed petty and childish but it was something he needed, and seeing as he was a wizard who could simply take a potion to clear his tar-stained lungs every few months there was no lasting harm done to his body. Alison had thankfully let the matter rest after that, though her crisp green eyes had seemed to look at him with an air of sadness for the remainder of the day following their confrontation.

She had been thrilled when he had finally given up his quidditch career, which had often entailed him spending weeks abroad and wasn't much of a lifestyle for a man with two young sons. Trystane James Potter was now seven and growing like a reed. There was just a six month age gap between Trys and his niece – and goddaughter – Aurora Potter, but the children rarely saw each other because of the extremely strained relationship between James and Cassiopeia. James had never truly been able to connect with his brother's widow because of how much guilt he held whilst for her part, Cassiopeia couldn't bring herself to fully accept the man who had killed her husband, even though she knew that Albus had begged James to kill him for the sake of their world.

It had been because of his son and niece that James had given up his place as seeker for Puddlemere United, when Trystane had been three he had missed his son's birthday because he had been playing for England in the World Cup. It had been the highlight of his career but he had come to realise that it was more important to be there for his family than for him to be a famous quidditch star. He knew he had made the right decision when a year later Alison had given birth to his second son, Daniel Albus Potter. Alison had raised her eyebrows at his choice of middle name but had let it be, despite Albus' actions she knew he had been a good man before being pushed over the edge.

It had come as a surprise when he had applied for a position with the Auror Department – they were much better under Kingley than they had ever been when he had been an auror under Ronald Weasley – he had been approached by the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Hugo Malfoy, to take on a new project that the Ministry was working on. The idea had actually come from the muggle world and what Hugo claimed was called "Scotland Yard." He had expressed interest and thus the Order had been reformed, not as the militant resistance force that it had been during The Second War but as an organization that policed the police so to speak.

He quite enjoyed the job, even though his mother and wife often complained about how dangerous it was for him to be the director of their world's only law enforcement and investigation organisation. Ghost Division was a very secret department, and whilst he was aware of their existence he left most of the dealings with that department to Hugo for him to deal with.

His agents considered him to be the "coolest boss" they had ever worked under and he sometimes saw their point. James didn't enforce the use of wizarding clothing amongst his agents and was quite prone to coming to work in his jeans, combat boots and a formfitting shirt most days. This was because he worked for efficiency rather than formality. As a father himself he often encouraged his agents to make use of their family time, didn't often begrudge them leaving early and as long as they got the job done he would often overlook minor lapses in their behaviour. It was important to lead by loyalty and not be fear; he had learned that lesson long ago and did his best to be a familiar and dependable face to his colleagues and employees.

He often wondered if things would have turned out differently if the Order had been active when he was still in school, if perhaps they could have cracked down on corrupt Aurors like his Uncle Ron and bigoted Ministry officials like his father. It was why he threw himself into his work with such fervency, to prevent what had happened to his brother from happening to any other child.

He sighed; the cigarette spent, and flicked the stub into the milling throng below. Then he froze when he caught sight of a familiar looking head of ruby red. She was there for a mere second before vanishing into a nearby store and he was sure that his mind was playing tricks on him because _she _couldn't be here. Lily was in America, or else had died in the cataclysm – he didn't like contemplating that alternative though – and she couldn't be here in Diagon Alley.

He didn't often think of his sister and when he did it was often laced with sadness that he hadn't seen her in what was now eleven and a half years. He missed his baby sister and often wondered what her reaction to him killing their brother would have been, he knew that Teddy had withheld judgement and had just been there for him as a big brother should. Albus had pleaded for him to kill him so James was at peace that he had at least acted on his brother's wishes. But Lily, it was her acceptance he craved the most because she was the only true sibling that he had left.

He had sometimes thought about going to America to seek her out but had always been too cowardly to actually do so. What would he say if he found her?

"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you when you needed me Lily and you were forced to flee the country while pregnant and I'm also very sorry for killing our brother. Do you think we could go out and grab a cup of firewhiskey to catch up?"

The absurdity of that statement made him snort before he noticed the redhead leave the store again. His mouth went dry as he grabbed his leather jacket and headed for the door, intent to meet her face to face. He had gotten a direct look at her and there was no denying who it was any longer.

Lily Luna Potter had returned to Britain at last.

(*)(*)(*)

Lily took a seat at a table outside Florean Fortescue's as she took in the street, so different since she had last been here. Where the street had once been quite rustic and somewhat medieval it would seem that over the course of the last decade wizards had finally caught up to the twenty-first century. Several of the stores looked much more chic than she remembered them to be and there were a few very large office buildings near Gringotts whilst in her youth the only building that had been above seven storeys had been _The Rose,_ Hermione's hotel.

It was two weeks until Hogwarts would begin for the year and Lily had found herself forced to enter the magical world to purchase her son's school things. Orion was currently purchasing their ice-creams, after having insisted that he was a big boy and he didn't need his mother to accompany him. She had smiled in bemusement at him but agreed, after all this was Diagon Alley and at this time of year there were dozens of wizarding children scattered amongst the masses.

She absently patted the shopping bag of textbooks that she had placed on the table beside her, smiling at the thought that the Hogwarts syllabus hadn't changed that much in all this time. Apart from the new class, Unity Studies – of which she was very curious about – all the other subjects had remained the same. Hogwarts was actually the only reason she had returned, because how could she ever deny Orion the chance to attend the fabled school.

Her eyes flittered over the crowd and suddenly she cursed under her breath as she caught sight of a man in his mid to late thirties walking out of the Madame Malkin's and she recognized those wavy turquoise locks as if it had been only yesterday that she had last seen them. She winced at the sudden appearance of her god-brother, hoping that the shopping bags and the passage of time was enough to obscure her from his lupine gaze. Then her jaw dropped slightly at the adolescent boy who followed him out the store. He was tall and lean, though his arms were banded with lithe muscles and she could tell by his tight t-shirt that those muscles extended across his entire body. A silver loop clung to his left ear and when he opened his mouth to speak she noticed a stud on his tongue, framed in wolfishly sharp teeth. She didn't recognize any of these features save for his hair, which he wore in punkish waves of neon-green.

Merlin, the last time she had seen Remy Lupin he had crawled into her lap and begged her to read him another bedtime story. Now, judging by how attractive a young man her nephew had grown into she was shrewd enough to think that he often had girls on his lap instead.

Her gaze travelled back to Teddy and now people around her were staring curiously at her look of shock, because her eyes had fallen on the girl walking beside Teddy as if attached to his hip. She was young, no more than Orion's age and by the pale pink of her ponytail she was definitely Teddy's daughter.

Was it shameful that she didn't even know her nieces name? Was it worse that she didn't even know that she had a niece?

But it wasn't her fault; she had had to leave for the sake of her son's wellbeing. Why then, did seeing the family she had left behind leave such a bitter taste in her mouth. Her breath hitched when she saw that Teddy was staring at her with the same gobsmacked expression she was wearing as she stared at him and his children. The staring match continued for a minute, perhaps an hour – she would never know – before he started making his way towards her, the two young metamorphmagi in tow.

"Lily?" he asked in a thick voice, beside him Remy seemed to start as recognition overtook him. He raised an eyebrow at her, seemingly nonchalant that his long lost aunt had finally returned.

"It's good to see you, Teddy," she replied, her voice breaking as she chanced a small smile. Then before she could react he had her crushed in a hug so tight that she found it difficult to breathe.

"It's really you . . . oh, Lily-Petal," he murmurs before pulling away and fixing her with a stern glare, a look she was sure had graced her own face whenever Orion had been misbehaving. "Where have you been?" he asked, his hair flitting no less than six different colours as his emotions ran wild before settling in his usual blue.

She opened her mouth to speak but no sound came out, she didn't know what to say. Fortunately Remy seemed to notice her hesitation and spoke; her lip trembled as she heard his voice for the first time in years. It had lost its childlike wonder but it still held the boyish curiosity and mischievous lilt that she had loved to hear when he was but a boy on her lap.

"We thought you were dead," and she flinched that these were the first words he would ever say to her after eleven years of separation. But her heart stilled for a moment because she realised that was what it must have seemed like to those she had left behind, especially after the cataclysm had decimated the American seaboard six years prior to this day.

Would it really have been that hard for her to put quill to parchment and write them a letter, just to reassure them that she was okay?

"So what finally brought you back?" asked Teddy to try and quell the awkward silence because really, what else was there to ask the sister he had thought as lost as the brother who had died.

And the answer to that question chose that moment to appear, bless his young soul, his eyes glimmering – her eyes – beneath _his _hair and he held two chocolate cones in his hands as he approached their table, not seeming to notice the three people surrounding his mother.

"They didn't have strawberry, mum," he says quickly, suddenly realising they're not alone and it strikes her that the first time her brother hears his eldest nephew's voice that those would be his words. Looking up she forced a smile to her lips, noticing how ashen Teddy's hair had turned and how the girl – whose name she still didn't know – was studying her young son. It seemed strange that the only one who looked to have been expecting this had been Remy, but she put it down to him always having been a quick-witted individual.

Not knowing how to proceed she decided that making introductions would be the best way to break the growing ice that lingered in the sunlit air.

"Ryan, these are your cousins, Remy and –," she broke off, but thankfully her nephew seemed to once again come to her rescue.

"Andrea, but call her Andy or she may bite your head off, kid," he smirked at the relieved look on her face and she noticed for the first time, that there was the shadow of the wolf across his features.

"Hey," said Orion somewhat awkwardly, and Lily had never been more pleased that she had been completely honest with her son about why she had left Britain in the first place. Even at eleven, he seemed to pick up that the air was tense and humming with unasked questions.

"Hey," said Teddy, and if his voice trembled she chose not to notice, "I guess I'm your Uncle Teddy then." Then he turned to her with a Black smile, one that made her remember that he came from the same line that had produced Bellatrix, Draco and Scorpius before saying:

"Why don't you come home with us, baby sister? It seems we have a lot to catch up on."

She nods, even though it hurts so bad that he would call her _baby sister_ because that had been what Albus had always called her.

(*)(*)(*)

"Rose?" asked Hermione, looking up from her novel as her daughter stepped out of the fireplace in a whoosh of green flame, pausing only to dust the soot from the robes as she came to sit beside across from her whilst wearing a tense look on her face. Draco, who had taken the day off from work due to things running quite smoothly at the Ministry, glanced up in mild curiosity from his own book.

"Have either of you told Scorpius that Lily is back?" she asked, not bothering with pleasantries as she delved right into the topic that had brought her from Hogwarts. The new school year would start soon and Rose was extremely busy with making preparations as this was her first year as Headmistress following Minerva's resignation the previous year.

"No," admitted Draco, "We didn't want to get his hopes up."

"We thought it best to let Lily come to him," said Hermione at the same time as her husband, causing Rose to look at them with mild indignation.

"He has a right to know," pointed out Rose, "It's his son who's going to be starting Hogwarts this year."

"But it isn't our place to tell him," said Hermione, understanding where her daughter was coming from but needing her to know that it wasn't their decision to make, "We have to face facts that neither of them have seen each other in eleven years and that Lily may have moved on, just like Scorpius has."

"Please," scoffed Rose, "He would drop Adrianna in a heartbeat for Lily and we all know it." She was not a fan of her sister-in-law as Adrianna had been firmly opposed to Delphin marrying a barren witch from an impure bloodline. The feeling of dislike was mutual because Rose didn't think Ade was good for her brother either.

"Be that as it may," said Draco in a firm tone that both women recognized as his "Minister" voice, "What if Lily has moved on? Who's to say whether or not Orion now calls another man father?"

Rose spluttered, her father had raised some very valid points and whilst she would like nothing better than for her brother to get the happiness he deserved, she also knew that it would crush him if Orion had a stepfather.

"For his sake," said Hermione, a tone of finality in her voice, "We can't intervene. Not yet at any rate."

After that, the conversation flowed marginally lighter as Rose caught up with how her daughters were doing. She dreaded the actual school year when she would have to spend nights as well as days away from her family but knew they were in good hands with her mother. Thirty minutes later, after stopping by their room at the Manor to receive a makeover from her two-year old twins, she headed through the floo, her heart feeling marginally lighter.

She just wished that Lily would make her decision quickly, Scorpius had dealt with a lot during his life and he didn't deserve to have her play with his feelings by returning. In her opinion, if Lily had come home remarried and moved on then she would do everything in her power to ensure that Scorpius got rights his happy ending.

(*)(*)(*)

"REMY WILLIAM LUPIN," a woman screeched, and Lily winced as she stood on the porch of the suburban home with its white picket fence and perfectly mowed lawn. It brought a smile to her face, imagining Teddy running a lawn-mover across the grass as if it were the most normal thing in the world whilst the muggles next door stared at his turquoise hair.

"WHAT DID I TELL YOU? IS THAT A TONGUE PIERCING! I WARNED YOU NO–," Victoire fell silent, her face blanching as if she's seen a ghost when she caught sight of Lily being ushered through the door by Teddy, Orion in tow. She gasps, looking from mother to son as her brain does the calculations and she plops backwards into the couch, looking quite flustered and overwhelmed.

"Look who we found," said Remy in a cheery tone, and Lily fixed him with a shrewd glare because she had a feeling that her arrival had just worked in his favour. She remembered from her own youth that Victoire, while the gentlest of all the Weasleys, had inherited a temper that was far worse than the family's fabled rage. Victoire had inherited the Veela temperament and Lily knew from experience how biting her words could be when roused.

"Lily," stammered Victoire, gazing at her cousin with widened eyes. "You're back." Then her face broke out into a warm smile and she stood, hurrying forward to crush her cousin in a bone-shattering embrace. Lily smirked at her nephew as she saw him wink at her before disappearing up the stairs, no doubt hoping to hide out there till his mother had cooled down regarding his new piercing. When Victoire finally released her and the introductions were made, Lily settled down on the couch across from Teddy and Victoire whilst Andrea dragged Orion off to play.

"How long have you been back?" asked Victoire, without preamble and Lily noted with a twisting feeling in her gut that her cousin had a very calculating look in her sky-blue eyes. It was times like this that her cousin gave of the same impression as Albus Dumbledore had when Lily had visited the headmistress's office, that he was x-raying you with his eyes.

"Three weeks," she shifted guiltily, noticing that Teddy had a hurt look in his eyes.

"So if I didn't see you today, when would I have known my sister was home?" he asked, and Victoire arched an eyebrow when she stuttered in response.

"It isn't easy, you know," admitted Lily finally, and Teddy's expression morphed to one of confusion. "Coming back to a place that you practically fled from almost a decade ago and not knowing if the people you love now hate you for leaving. Having to come home and face the facts that your brother is dead and he isn't coming back and you'll never see him smile at you again or call you baby sister and muss up your hair even though he knows you hate it." Lily wasn't thinking as she spoke, something had broken the dam within her and now everything she had been suppressing for so long was coming rushing to the surface. She was dimly aware that she was crying and that Teddy was looking at her as though he had been slapped whilst Victoire had an expression of utmost pity and sadness on her face.

"I barely recognized Remy when I saw him today in Diagon Alley, what kind of Godmother does that? I didn't know you had a daughter Teddy, I didn't know Louis was married. Fuck that, I didn't even know he was gay! I've missed so much and I've lost so much that I just can't deal with being reject–" Teddy cut her off with a reassuring hug and she burrowed her face into his shoulder, crying softly as he patted her back. She realised with a pang how much she had missed him, her eldest brother – even if there was no blood connection between them – her favourite person to ask for advice, her first Teddy-Bear.

She was scared to face her family because she didn't think she could handle their rejection if they hated her but as she sat there in her godbrothers' arms, she realised that she was being naive and cowardly. She couldn't run from her problems forever.

She may have been a Ravenclaw but that didn't change the fact that she had the heart of a Gryffindor and the cunning of a Slytherin – the best traits of both her brothers. She had no doubt that a part of James was dead and gone, that a shard of his brightness had been dimmed by his suffering.

Neither would want her to keep running, so she would live for them as well as her son, just as their best qualities lived on in her.

(*)(*)(*)

"You cannot be serious," said Xavier, wide-eyed as he contemplated his wife.

"I am, Xav," she said seriously, "I'm the Divisions best agent. I'm the only one they can send in."

"You told me that the last four agents to go in all came back in body-bags!" Xavier exploded, pacing the room angrily. What was his wife thinking? What was Blaise Zabini thinking? How dare he send his wife into the midst of a group that was arguably as dangerous as the Death Eaters had been?

"I'm not like the rest and you know it," replied Kat in a soft tone, things were now becoming serious with the mysterious Cult and Ghost Division was on high alert. Whilst it had not yet been made public knowledge, Hugo was planning on briefing the Order agents immediately. The fourth agent had had his corpse ripped to bloody shreds before being sent back – Blaise and Hugo both now knew they were dealing with a serious threat to the magical world.

"But we don't know their agenda or the motives, Kat," he said tersely, even though it was technically illegal for her to have told her husband the details of her work she had done so anyway, "We don't know anything about this _Cult _and you want to go right into the middle of the shitstorm."

"This is my last assignment," she said, "I'm transferring to the Auror Department afterwards. But I need to do this Xavier; it's my job to keep the world – and this family – safe."

"And the boys," barked Xavier, seemingly not impressed that his wife still was so determined to go, "Are you still going to do after what happened to Savage's family?" Kat bit her lip, she knew he wouldn't like what she was about to tell him.

"You and the boys are going into hiding until I get back," she said, causing him to look disgusted at her. She knew that it was for the best however, the Cultists had murdered the Savage family after Agent Savage had been caught scoping out on of their safe-houses. Rumour had it that Mrs. Savage had been made to watch them rape and torture their son and two daughters before all four of them had been killed.

"Katherine . . .," begged Xavier, "Please don't do this. Please, don't ask me to hide away while you risk your life."

"You have too," she said, coming up to him and wrapping her arms around his wiry frame, "For the sake of our sons."

"Promise me that you will come home safe and sound," he said in resignation, pressing his lips to her forehead. She relaxed under his administrations, smiling wanly as he scooped her up and carried her to bed.

"I promise that I will always come home to you, Xavier," she said, closing her eyes as they both fell into bed, knowing they wouldn't see each other in a very long while.

(*)(*)(*)

"Fuck you," she grinned as she climbed off the floor that she had just been shoved down too, a twinkle in her violet eyes. She had apparated to his bedroom just a few minutes ago; precisely onto his bed so that the ever-present silencing charm he had placed on it would mask the noise of apparition. From past experience she knew his parents were light sleepers and considering that his father was one of her professors at Hogwarts, she didn't want things to get awkward.

"You could have called first," groaned Remy, she had landed with her knee jarring against a particularly painful part of his anatomy and it was also quite late, judging by the near-full moon that hung suspended at its apex against the star-strewn sky.

"Where's the fun in that, Remy-kins," she smirked as she perched herself on the bed beside him, completely unabashed that her best friend was lying there in his boxers. Mostly because they had recently gotten past the friends stage and had then proceeded to land somewhere in the middle of "friends with benefits."

"The fun is that I get to sleep, Demitria," and she scowled because she hated her full name with the same intensity that his grandmother had been rumoured to have hated hers. He didn't blame her though. What was wrong with Nana Andromeda that she had named her only daughter Nymphadora?

He winced bodily as she dug her manicured nails into his chest and then she smirked at the vivid red marks they left.

"Fine," he grumbled, "I'll call you Demi!" Her eyes seemed to darken with ill-disguised lust when she caught sight of his tongue ring and his face broke out into a light grin – he had hoped she would like it.

"A tongue ring, Remy?" she asked, amusement evident in her voice, "Whatever would your mother say?"

"She threatened to bend me over her knee and then she raged at dad for allowing it," he admitted and she threw back her head with silent laughter, her sable hair flourishing like a dark curtain around her pale skin.

"Doesn't she know that I'm the only one allowed to spank you?" teased Demi, winking as he flushed so deeply that his green hair became tinged with red.

"By the way, why are you here?" asked Remy, wanting to divert the conversation away from their explicit activities. Yes, she had spanked him – but that had been one time! He hadn't been able to sit properly for two days afterwards . . .

Demitria fell stonily silent at his question, her eyes glazing over with that guarded expression he knew so well. She bit her lip, not wanting to have to go into details because she had come to him to escape. Remy had always been her escape.

"Are they at it again?" he asked, knowing the answer before she nodded. Demitria's parents had what was perhaps the worst and most abusive relationship Remy had ever seen, they were both purebloods who had been placed into an arranged marriage and they hated each other with a passion. The only person in this world who had had more affairs than her mother was her father. Remy often wondered if having to grow up with such venomous, vapid individuals was the reason Demi was such a cold, somewhat ruthless, rebellious person. Well at least she had been cold . . . then in their second year she had met a boy with green hair who managed to thaw her frozen heart.

"Can I stay here tonight?" she asked him, a wan smile breaking over her face when he shrugged as if to say, "Do you even need to ask?" She quickly slipped beneath his covers and snuggled up against him, sighing at the instant comfort she always felt around Remy. She would never admit it for fear of what came with relationships, but she had fallen head over heels in love with the metamorphmagus since her fifth year.

"One day, I'm going to be an auror and I'm going to stop husbands hitting their wives," she whispered, relaxing as his arm curled around her so that his hand lay on the small of her back.

"No fair," he chuckled, as usual diffusing the tension of their conversation, "I have to put with you at work too?" They both knew that he had applied to the Auror Department and would start his training as soon as he finished their upcoming seventh year.

"You're never getting rid of me, Remy William Lupin," she promised before closing her eyes and losing herself in his familiar scent, soon drifting off to sleep. Vaguely she heard him respond, but she was not sure if she was dreaming or if he had actually said it.

"I wouldn't have it any other way, Demitria Pierce."


	4. Chapter 3

**Call Me Home**

**Chapter Three**

**Venom of the Scorpion**

Lily swallowed her indecision and knocked on the door, her heart beating painfully fast, a faint sheen of sweat breaking out across her forehead. Beside her, Teddy gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze – he had come with her for moral support. The wind shifted the porch swing that Orion was perched on as he prepared for the scene that would no doubt soon take place. In was his opinion that his mother's family was composed entirely of extremely dramatic and entertaining people. Lily for her part had been too thrilled that he liked them and that the feeling was mutual to point out that it had just been chance that they had met Louis and Teddy first as those two were easily the most colourful members of the Potter/Weasley/Lupin clan.

Lily had effortlessly rebuilt her relationship with Louis and she now considered him to be her closest friend. Living in America, whilst also living under an alias, she had been wary of getting to close to the people around her in case one of them would pierce the guise she had built around herself. Apart from a few of the women she had worked with, her landlady and a few at the other parents at Orion's school, she had had relatively no friendly contact with another person save for her son.

She had thus been duly grateful that her gay cousin seemed to have taken her into his fold as if she had never left in the first place. The first week they had been back, Orion had looked at her with a strange expression on his face the entire time. Lily could hardly fault him; she had rarely been so at ease and happy in the past eleven years.

Victoire and Teddy had also been great to her, though she suspected this had more to do with the minor emotional breakdown she had had on their couch rather than a feeling of trust on their parts. Like as not she had hurt Teddy very badly by leaving and his wounds would take time to heal – he was making the effort with her, but Lily knew it would take a long time to recapture the warm bond they had once shared. She did enjoy her nephew and godson, Remy, though – he had grown into quite the character and he was fast stepping into the older cousin role over Orion.

The door swung open and her throat goes dry because it's _him _who answered it. He's older and maybe a little less full of life than he had been in their youth, but he's holding a toddler in one arm and looking at the boy with the same warm, protective, lovable look that is just so _him._

Lily makes a sound, a soft gasp, because the toddler who can't be more than four years old has inherited their grandmother's eyes. They're wide and innocent and emerald green, looking so reminiscent of her dead brother than her heart breaks all over again.

His looks up to see who came to call and his jaw sags, his mouth hanging agape as hazel eyes meet copper. His arms slacken for just a second and Lily is absurdly worried that he may drop the child in his arms but then he grins, a grin that seems to melt the vestiges of long-suffered pain from his face and he reaches forward to pull her into a one armed hug that is so familiar and _brotherly_ that she wants to cry.

"I knew you were back, baby sister," and for some reason the moniker doesn't hurt as much as it usually did because it was what he had always called her too.

"I missed you so much, Jay-Jay," she mumbled, her voice thick as she uses his childhood nickname, noticing how he tenses when she does. Then it strikes her that she wasn't the only one to lose a sibling, she was just the only one too cowardly to have confronted her pain.

"I'm sorry," he whispered into her ear and she feels grateful when Teddy lifts her little nephew out of their brothers' arms so she can hug him fully. She tenses but just holds him tighter, hoping that she can signify without words that she doesn't blame him for what happened to Albus. He seemed to understand but he still didn't let go of her as they both take the time to silently do what they should have done together six years ago.

Mourn their brother.

His voice was tearstained but it was comforting all the same, because it reminded her of times long past. Memories of her brothers teaching her to ride a broom, of Teddy reading her bedtime stories, of James letting her climb into his bed when she was five and terrified of the dark and of Albus bending over a cauldron and grimacing at the sight of whatever potion she had been trying to brew.

His voice brought back the memories of her childhood, memories she had fought for so long to suppress. His voice did what Louis', Teddy's and Victoire's could not.

James' voice truly brought her home.

(*)(*)(*)

"So when are you going to see Scorpius?" asked Louis as he handed her a cup of tea and took a seat beside her on the couch. Following her emotional reunion with her family, Lily had decided to visit her favourite cousin because she didn't want to be alone with just a young boy for company in her apartment. She hadn't really realised how starved she was for human interaction until she had come home and reconnected with him.

Orion hadn't complained at the idea as Louis was still very much a child at heart and had several muggle video game consoles in his apartment that had been specially adapted by Malfoy Holdings to function in a magical environment. He was already becoming fast friends with Remy despite their age difference and for that she was grateful. It was nice to know that her son would have one of his older cousins watching out for him when he started Hogwarts in a week.

She had been surprised to note that Louis worked as a journalist for Witch Weekly but was proud that he had managed to carve out a niche in an almost solely female dominated work environment. She supposed it had something to do with their family still maintaining a cordial relationship with Witch Weekly's editor in chief, Lavender Finnigan, who like their parents was a war heroine.

"I don't know," she replied with a sigh, meeting her brother and mother again had emotionally exhausted her. True to expectations, Ginny had ranted at her for close to half an hour for never bothering to write and for hurting the family so badly but had then scooped her into a smothering hug and had declared that she was thankful that Lily had finally come home. After an evening of tears, on the parts of all three Potters, Lily was dreading the inevitable confrontation with Scorpius. So far her family had been warm and overjoyed that she was home – Ginny for one already had a spark in her eyes, something James had said had been missing in their mother for six years now – but she knew that sooner or later her luck would run out.

She was terrified that Scorpius wouldn't want her anymore.

"You need to go sooner rather than later," pointed out Louis, "Before he finds out from somebody that isn't you."

"I know," she said quietly, "Maybe I'll go tomorrow."

"You had better," said Louis, "Or I will drag him to your apartment and chain you both to the couch so that you can stop running from your feelings for each other."

Lily giggled at that, but frowned when she took in his words and their full meaning.

_What did Louis mean both?_

(*)(*)(*)

Hugo gave his wife a lazy smile as he got home from work, tired from his ordeals of the day yet glad to see her. Francesca was now the Deputy Head of St. Mungo's and was Victoire's right hand so to speak. It put a slight strain on their relationship as they both had incredibly busy jobs which significantly cut into their alone time but they somehow made it work. It didn't help that they had a child who required their constant attention – not that he didn't love Alexandria, he just sometimes felt somewhat overwhelmed by the sheer amount of responsibility that came with being a parent.

He had already tried to convince his daughter that the nuns were very good people and that she should become one when she grew up. Francesca had threatened to beat him with a spoon if he ever tried converting his daughter into a nun again though.

Today had been especially trying as he had finalised the arrangements regarding Xavier and his sons. Kat had already departed on her mission and whilst he was wary and conflicted about giving his authorisation to send her in, he knew that she was the best agent that Ghost Division had. For all intents and purposes the family was taking a lengthy vacation in Australia and only Hugo, Draco and Blaise Zabini knew that they had in fact gone into hiding. It was a necessary evil after what had befallen the Savage family, one chance word in the wrong ears and they would be bringing the Avery's back in body bags.

He frowned slightly as he slipped of his coat and realised that the house was for once devoid of the usual sounds of an exuberant toddler. Hugo wondered where she had gotten her energy from, it certainly wasn't from him or Fran and he suspected that the Malfoy genes which had led Scorpius into being such a boisterous youth had been passed on to his daughter. Turning to ask his wife why their child was so unnaturally quiet tonight, he felt his jaw slacken.

"Hey," grinned Francesca and his eyes widened when he took in the racy lingerie set she had on, "My mum is keeping Lexi for the night and I thought I would surprise you."

"Consider me surprised," he smirked as she took his hand and led her to their bedroom.

(*)(*)(*)

Cassiopeia smiled as she knelt in the rose gardens of Malfoy Manor, artfully pruning one of the bushes she had planted. She could just make out Aurora playing with her tea-set from the corner of her eyes, grinning cheerfully as she spoke with her various teddy bears and dolls. Cassiopeia feared that she may have spoiled her daughter by indulging in her every wish but Hermione and Astoria had both assured her it was natural for her to behave in such a manner considering her circumstances. Cass had to agree with their point; though Aurora never wanted for anything she was still a very sweet child.

The air became chilled and she shivered slightly at the icy feeling that accompanied his manifestation. The Shadow knelt beside her, laying a frozen hand on hers as his emerald eyes danced with adoration.

"Beautiful . . ." he murmured, his voice incandescent and halting as he surveyed their daughter holding out a cup of water to a purple unicorn.

"She has her father's eyes," smiled Cass, her heart bleeding because he was here and she couldn't touch him but still just happy that he could still watch his daughter grow up.

"Thank . . . fully . . . not . . . his . . . hair," he chuckled in a voice like broken glass and Cassiopeia couldn't help but giggle at his words. She missed him so much, but at least through his Shadow she could still maintain a semblance of the man who had taken her heart and never given it back.

"I love you," she told him as she caressed his shadowy cheek, careful not to let her hand pass through him. It was an empty gesture as she could not feel him, the only sign that she held onto something at all was the biting ice of his Shadow as he fingers trailed across it. The amusement died in his eyes as he turned to look at her.

"I . . . know . . . but need . . . move on," he said quietly and she shook her head quickly. How could he even ask that of her? She knew he only wanted her to be happy and to live but didn't they see that she was happy . . . or as happy as she was ever like to be.

"Never," she said so firmly that he faltered, the sun seeming to dissipate his spectral image for a few milliseconds before he returned.

"I made a vow to you, Albus," she continued, "Here in this garden on our wedding day."

"Till . . . death . . . does . . . us . . . part," he whispered softly.

"That you would be my last love just as you were my first," she reminded him, "I never said anything about death."

"Cassie," he murmured as he leaned in to press his grave-stained lips to her brow, and she felt as if a shard of ice had just entered through her temples because he couldn't kiss her. Not really. He was composed entirely of darkness and cold, two things that one could feel but never touch.

She gave him the brightest smile she could muster when suddenly she felt the wards trip. She looked up curiously then nodded at Albus, who flitted away to check who had come calling on the Manor. Cassiopeia stood hurriedly and moved to pick up her daughter, call her overprotective but she would be damned if she ever let Aurora be hurt as her husband and son had. Moving quickly, she hurried to the Manor and deposited her daughter in the kitchen beside Hermione. Hermione looked up from the stove with a raised eyebrow when she saw her stepdaughter ignoring Aurora's protests, Cass rarely if ever did that unless the situation was urgent.

"What is it?" asked the Malfoy matriarch, studying Cassiopeia's wan features for some sign of what had just transpired.

"The wards were tripped," she replied and Hermione was alert in an instant. The wards of Malfoy Manor were keyed to certain members of the family and close friends only. Whoever had come to call was obviously a stranger. Cass noticed Hermione shiver as the room temperature dropped for a moment as Albus reappeared at her side, visible only to her.

"Lily," he said in an agitated tone. Cass' eyes widened and Hermione looked at her shrewdly.

"Its Lily," muttered Cassiopeia, before she realised what she had just admitted.

"How could you possibly know tha–" Hermione began and then realisation seemed to fill her eyes. The older woman looked at her stepdaughter with an expression of utmost pity and sorrow as she noted the significance of the sharp decline in temperature and the way Cass' eyes kept darting to her side as if somebody was standing there.

"Oh, Cass," whispered Hermione as she sank into the chair and rested her face within her hands.

(*)(*)(*)

"Are you stalking me?" asked Remy, amusement evident in his voice as he turned to grin at an impishly mischievous looking Demitria. He had gone to Diagon Alley for the day, hoping to get his first tattoo without his mother knowing. Remy had insisted that he was merely stepping out to meet his friends to celebrate (or mourn) the end of the holidays and whilst she had looked disapproving she had allowed him to go.

He supposed that he had himself to blame after showing up drunk out of his skull the last time he had went out with his friends. His dad and Uncle Louis had tried to cover it up but Victoire Lupin had the senses of a hawk and had proceeded to ground him for a week.

Of course, what with Demitria being keyed in to their apparition wards by him, he had found that being confined to his bedroom for a week had had its advantages.

"Nope," she popped the "P", "I was in Diagon to buy some new shoes and noticed you acting all shifty."

"I do not act shifty," he said, looking affronted at her description of him.

"Then what are you doing in Knockturn Alley?" she smirked knowingly as his eyes flashed towards the nearby tattoo parlour. She bit back a laugh; her best friend obviously had a death wish considering how furious his mother had been when he had gotten his tongue pierced.

"Getting a tattoo," he returned her smirk before grabbing her by her wrist and dragging her to the tattoo parlour with him, "And so are you."

Two hours later they both walked out, smarting in pain but with cheery grins on their faces. Good-naturedly, Remy slung an arm over her shoulders as he winced at the feeling of his sleeve brushing against his new ink. He had gotten a winged female angel holding a pair of hunting knives on his right bicep. Demitria hadn't seemed to notice the significance of the design, or that the angel was a spitting image of her.

For her part, Demi would never let him know the significance of the tattoo she had gotten on her hip . . . a wolf howling at the moon.

(*)(*)(*)

Scorpius growled in frustration at the sound of a person knocking on the front door of his apartment, a lavish three-bedroom penthouse that he had moved into around a year after Albus had passed. It had stung him too much to remain in the Manor that was so filled with the memories of the two of them growing up together as brothers in all but blood, and call him a coward but he couldn't stand having to watch his sister's grief any longer than he had.

Shaking his head he pressed his lips back to Adrianna's, content to ignore the visitor. He was after all naked and in no state to receive guests at present, especially his family – whom it would most likely be. Turning his full attention to his girlfriend he favoured her with a cheeky, if slightly forced smirk as she unhooked her bra.

He didn't really love Adrianna but he _knew_ that he could be happy with her if he tried. She was beautiful, nubile and was all in all quite a pleasant girl. The only problem was that she was to calm and placid an individual to truly enthral him. He needed fire in his life; he needed a girl who he knew would undoubtedly soon cause him to be burned.

But he didn't want that, not after his last dance with fire had left him so burned that he could still feel the wounds upon his soul to this day. Adrianna was safe, she was slightly boring and predictable but she could keep his heart – what little of it he could give – safe.

He cursed under his breath at the next knock on the door and hopped out of bed, pulling on a pair of boxers and a t-shirt as he walked to answer it and give the mystery visitor a piece of his mind.

His heart stopped when he threw open the door with a biting insult on the tip of his tongue, his hands falling limply to his side at the sight of her. Her features seemed more drawn than they had been several years ago and her eyes seemed to have lost the flames which had always filled their coppery depths but there was no denying who it was that was standing on his threshold. He had thought that he had stopped loving her and that she had destroyed his ability to love but he was so wrong. Because no sooner had his eyes met hers did he find himself falling for her all over again. She had been his first real love, the two of them had written one of the most tragic love stories in the world together but she was here now. Then he remembered that she had taken his son from him and he hadn't seen Orion save for that one single picture she had sent him when he was a few months old. He didn't know whether to scream at her in hatred or hold her in an embrace of love.

How long had he envisioned her homecoming? This was never what he had expected though, for her to show up on his doorstep whilst he was entertaining another woman.

She chanced a faint smile when she caught sight of him, lip trembling ever so slightly as she opened her mouth to speak.

"Can I come in?"

Her voice nearly drove him to his knees, striking at every chord of his heart as it slammed against him like a warm waterfall of memory and heartache.

"You're back?" he finally responded, pulling himself together and concealing his turbulent emotions between a mask of icy indifference. He wanted to be the boy he had been whilst at Hogwarts, to just grab her and spin her around until they were both dizzy and giggling but he couldn't. He couldn't open himself to her and give her another opportunity to hurt him. He needed to emulate Albus right now, he who had been so skilled at hiding his feelings from the world that had scorned him.

She winced at his cold tone but replied nonetheless, "Yes, I'm back. We went looking for you at the Manor but Cassiopeia said you had moved out."

_We?_ Scorpius' eyes widened as he looked around the landing and visibly recoiled as his eyes fell on the platinum haired boy lingering near the elevator shaft, seemingly enraptured by the view out the window. His son, his boy, the son he had never met was standing so tangibly close that had he not been exercising every scrap of his control to rein in his emotions he would be crying.

"Orion," he choked in a hoarse voice, his mouth having gone dry at the sight of his son. The boy looked up with an expression of dawning wonder and Scorpius felt a pang in his already hurting heart.

"Dad?" the boy asked, noting their almost identical features – the only difference being their eyes of which he had inherited his mothers. Scorpius took a step forward when he felt rather than saw Lily tense.

"Scor, who's at the door?" Scorpius cursed vehemently, he had forgotten that Adrianna was in his room. Chancing a look over his shoulder he saw her standing in their bedroom doorway wearing a silky bathrobe, her tousled hair and the red love-bites across her neck making it painfully obvious what they had been doing.

"You're busy," said Lily before he could speak and he wished that she wouldn't sound so hurt because it had been over ten years. He was entitled to move on and try to be happy, he was sure she had done the same over the years and held no illusions that she had gone celibate after leaving him.

"This is my address," she continued in that same hurt, now slightly guarded voice and she held out a scrap of paper, "Can you make it for dinner tonight?"

He nodded, wondering about her sudden change of topic when it all became clear as she walked up to her son and laid a hand on his arm. He opened his mouth to speak but she was faster.

"We'll see you then," she said, her voice breaking so slightly that he was sure he had imagined it. Then with a crack they were gone, but not before he caught sight of his son's eyes.

Adoring, wondrous, but also laced through with anger.

He couldn't help but laugh bitterly at the events that had just transpired because it was so painfully obvious that he and Orion had more in common than just their looks.

(*)(*)(*)

_A/N: Hey guys, sorry for the long wait for this chapter. It was a pretty busy couple of days what with my high school graduation and subsequent after-parties but I'm back and ready to update. I'd like to say that I will be able to give you daily updates but I think this will slow down to about three chapters a week (which I hope is still good considering some stories take months to update) but I just want you all to know that I am in no way abandoning this series. _

_Thoughts about this chapter? _


	5. Chapter 4

**Call Me Home**

**Chapter Four**

**Rejuvenated Petals **

Scorpius sighed as he exited the elevator of the four-storey brownstone and proceeded towards the green door labelled 3B, wondering if his first encounter with Lily and Orion could have gone any worse than it had. He couldn't get the look of anger and betrayal that had been so evident in his son's eyes out of his head, and he had hated himself for putting it there. To be sure, it hadn't been his fault but the way that the wonder had died in Orion's gaze made him feel as though he had been stabbed with a serrated knife through the gut. It had been eleven years since Lily had left, how could he be expected to have remained faithful to a woman who wasn't there? He had no doubt that Lily had had her fair share of male companionship whilst they were separated, she was after all an incredibly beautiful woman but having seen her hurt look made him wonder.

Had she moved on or had she remained faithful to the memory of the two of them? The thought honestly made him feel like shit.

He hesitated before knocking on the door, plucking up whatever courage he possessed to face the family he had thought he would never meet and before he could chicken out he rapped his knuckles against the varnished wood.

Could they be a family? Would Orion still want him as a dad after he had moved on from his mother? Had Lily remained chaste?

The thoughts echoed through his mind and he could feel the beginnings of a headache start to form. He loved Lily but she had hurt him and he didn't know if he could just forget that pain and act on his affections towards her. At the same time, Adrianna was a sweet girl who he knew he could try to be happy with. What was the difference?

The difference was that he knew that he could be happy with Lily because he had been happy with her before and because he still loved her. With Adrianna he would have to force himself to be happy, force himself to grow to love her and he just didn't know what to do. The only reason he had been able to bring himself to face Orion and Lily was his sister Cassiopeia. After Lily's visit he had floo'ed straight to the Manor.

"_I was wondering when you would stop by," said Cassiopeia from her seat on the couch, Aurora sleeping on her lap with her head on her mother's shoulder. It was evident that she had been reading, judging by the hastily closed novel on her lap. _

"_You sent Lily to my apartment!" he accused whilst dusting the soot from his clothes, "Adrianna was there!" Cassiopeia's eyes widened and Scorpius realised that his sister hadn't known that his girlfriend would have been with him. _

"_If I knew you were entertaining," Cass replied with a small bite in her voice – like Rose, she did not think that Adrianna was a good match for her brother based solely on the fact that he was forcing himself to be happy with her. "I wouldn't have told Lily where to find you."_

"_I was in bed with her," scowled Scorpius, flushing at the disgusted look on his sister's face. Having two sisters, he often forgot that whilst Rose didn't mind him being candid with her, Cass firmly shied away from any topic that remotely involved her sibling's sex lives. _

"_Charming, Scorpius," Cassiopeia rolled her eyes at her brother, "So what happened then?"_

"_I know it's been a while for you Cass but I'm not comfortable discussing what Ade and I do in bed with you," Scorpius smirked as he came to sit beside his sister and niece._

"_I mean, what happened with Lily, you git," said Cassiopeia, though the flash of pain in her eyes made Scorpius feel a shard of guilt for bringing up that she hadn't been with anyone since her husband had passed – no doubt inevitably reminding her of him. _

"_What do you think happened? She left in a hurry after seeing Ade there but . . . but Orion just looked so disgusted with me that I don't know what to do Cassie," he sounded anguished, all trace of his former sarcasm and mischief fading as he got around to the topic that had been bugging him. _

"_Lily invited me to dinner but I don't think I should go," he continued unhappily, "I don't know if its worth it going back to her after everything she did and I just don't wan–" He was cut off in mid sentence by a sharp slap across the face. Recovering from the attack, he looked up at a livid Cassiopeia whose lip was trembling with emotion and rage. _

"_Do you love her?" she asked, her voice tense. _

"_Yes," he stammered, still taken aback that she had slapped him, "But I don't know if I can . . . Don't hit me again!" he exclaimed when he saw her raise her hand again. _

"_You're an idiot, Scor," she said, "Ask yourself what I wouldn't give to have Albus in my arms again. You have a second chance, something that I will never have, and you're too much of a coward to take it!" Scorpius leaned in to hug his sister, causing Aurora to protest in her sleep as she was squeezed between the two of them. Cass was right, she would never have another chance with Albus because he was dead – he had a chance with Lily and he would take it._

The door swung open to reveal a smiling youth of eleven and once again his heartbeat increased exponentially as he stared at his son, whose grin seemed to fade upon taking in the sight of him. It rankled that one brief meeting, with no more than two words said between the two had already painted him as the bad guy in his son's mind.

"Hey," he said, chancing a faint smile and flinching at the hard look in those copper eyes.

"Hey," said Orion in a dry voice and once again Scorpius bit back the urge to chuckle, the boy was definitely a Malfoy. He remembered his own father telling him once before that the men in their family loved their parents in equal measure even if they disliked their choices but at the end of the day were fiercely protective of their mothers. He hadn't understood at the time, considering he had always associated with Draco rather than Astoria but now he thought that he did.

Lucius had guarded his own mother from Abraxas' temper. Draco had taken the Dark Mark solely to protect Narcissa. When his parents divorce had first hit the media, Scorpius had vehemently defended Astoria from the spurious accusations directed at her. And now, Orion seemed to view him as a threat to Lily's happiness.

"I'm sorry about earlier," he said after a few minutes of awkward silence, he could hear the rattle of pots in the background and assumed Lily was cooking. Orion held up his hand and Scorpius found himself surprised that he could be so effectively silenced by an eleven year old.

"I don't want to hear it," said Orion, "My mum is the most important person in the world to me, you may be my father and it isn't your fault that you weren't around but mum never so much as looked at another guy while we were in America. So all I have to say is that after hearing what a great person you were for the past eleven years, it makes me wonder if my mum either lied to me about you or if you never really loved her in the first place." Scorpius was stunned by the boys perceptiveness, his mouth hanging slightly agape as Orion stepped aside and allowed him to come in.

_She was faithful._

"I brought wine," Scorpius said, gesturing to the bottle he held in his hand. Orion rolled his eyes and pointed at the kitchen before disappearing into what Scorpius assumed was his room. He breathed a sigh of relief, that had gone a lot better than he had thought it might go. He had entertained the notion that the boy may just slam the door in his face.

"Lily," he said as he walked into the kitchen and caught sight of her crouched beside the oven. She straightened, holding a casserole dish in her hands as she turned to face him. There was a pained smile on her face as she looked at him and once again he noticed how differently she held herself when compared to the bright and energetic girl she had once been. Time and grief had changed them all, they had all been made to grow up to fast but he could still see the spark in her eyes that he had fallen in love with, faintly burning in the depths of pain and resignation.

"You came," she said and he flinched because it sounded as though she had not expected him to show up. Then her brow furrowed in confusion and she asked, "Where's your girlfriend?"

Scorpius started, "Why would she be here?"

"Look, Scorpius," said Lily in a somewhat dull tone, "I don't expect you to just drop everything and that you and I will have a big romantic love story here. I understand that you've moved on and I don't expect you to be a part of my life if you don't want too . . . I'm just asking that you be there for Ryan."

"Adrianna and I," he silenced her with a look when she opened her mouth to speak again, "We . . . she happened because I thought you would never come home, Lily. I forced myself to move on with her because I didn't want to be alone for the rest of my life, I mean, even if you weren't dating anyone you had Orion . . . you had a family of your own. I didn't, my siblings and friends all did. I wanted that and I still do but I want that with _you._"

Lily's eyes flickered slightly at his words and life seemed to return to her, "Scorpius, I can't just show up and break up your relationship." She faltered when he stepped forward and wrapped her in his arms and noticing immediately that despite the time and pain this didn't feel forced or feigned. He genuinely wanted to comfort her.

"It's always been you, Lily," he said softly, "Always."

(*)(*)(*)

Kat's expression was a mask of icy civility as she stepped into the darkened room, slightly uncomfortable in her clothing. She had adopted her teenage dress sense as part of her cover and whilst she was still very much a rebellious tomboy she hadn't worn her piercings and ripped jeans in years. Nor had she worn such dark make-up since her boys had been born but she knew that she needed to act the part, especially now that she had finally managed to infiltrate their ranks.

Tonight she was meeting The Dark Lady, the Cult's enigmatic leader. She dreaded the confrontation, knowing full well what this woman was capable of – she had been one of the first agents on the scene of the Savage Family massacre. She winced at the cold temperature, icy fingers permeating the air and the first thing she noticed was that the room was rife with Shadows, all of whom were visible to her. This did not bode well as only powerful Shadows could achieve true manifestation so that all could see them. Albus' Shadows had only been visible when he had tried to destroy the world.

Her occlumency slammed into place around her thoughts as she approached what looked like a throne of bones, which for all intents and purposes was empty. She needed her mind defences to be strong as she could not allow the Cultists to discover that she was hiding a family. For security reasons she had no idea where Xavier and the boys had gone too – he was their Secret Keeper and had she had made him swear to never divulge the secret to her until she was sure that the Cult would prove to be less dangerous.

"My Lady," said a sultry voice from beside her as the Cultist who had escorted her to the room dropped to her knees before the throne. Kat narrowed her eyes, wondering why Pansy Parkinson was bowing when there was nobody sitting on the throne.

"Kneel, fool," muttered Pansy and Kat obeyed, wondering if the Cultists were truly as mentally deranged as they had seemed. Their headquarters was a gruesome place, curtains made of human skin and fountains that sprayed blood instead of water were but a few of the details the stronghold had to offer. The dungeons had been the worst, they had held her there for two days whilst interrogating her to ensure she was honest in her intentions to join them.

Had it not been for Cassiopeia recently developing an antidote for Veritaserum she would have been dead by now. Thankfully she had been spared the torture devices which littered the dank dungeons, she had watched them torture a girl for sport and had fought the urge to retch the entire time. Having grown up with Rose and Delphin for the most part she was fairly well associated with accoutrements like whips and toys but they Cultists seemed like pure sadists from what she could tell.

Their vision was to complete what Albus had begun by tearing open the fabled Doors of Death – Kat didn't understand this concept as it had been nothing more than a children's tale to most of the wizarding world – and release the Legion of Shadows upon the world.

This had just deepened her resolve to find a way to bring the Cult of Shadows down. She had children to protect, she would be damned if she let them come to harm.

Kat bit back a gasp as a figure manifested upon the throne and it all made sense. The Dark Lady was not a human, how could she be when she committed such heinous acts. She was a Shadow, who exuded dark magical energy like nothing she had ever felt before.

What was worse, was that Katherine Avery had seen that Shadow once before . . . when Albus had first summoned her from beyond the Veil.

(*)(*)(*)

"HERMIONE!" shrieked Draco as he caught sight of himself in the bathroom mirror, his toothbrush falling with a clatter and staining the floor with spearmint toothpaste. He grabbed at his hair, aghast and horrified at what his granddaughter had done to him whilst exercising her accidental magic.

Hermione barged into the bathroom with her wand drawn, looking every bit the war heroine who had slain countless Death Eaters in her youth despite the fact that she was dressed in a fluffy bathrobe and fuzzy pink slippers. For a moment the greying brunette stared at him in shock before bursting out laughing, clutching at her sides as she doubled over in mirth. This day just couldn't get any better, not only had she met Orion Malfoy – who was a very charming young man – but now she got a front row seat to her a magically altered Draco Malfoy.

"This is not funny!" screeched Draco, "I look like a Weasel!" He yanked at his bright orange hair as if to try and tear it off.

"You're right, this isn't funny," said Hermione in a faux serious voice as she straightened up and came over beside him to inspect his hair, "It's hilarious." Then she was laughing again, causing her husband to scowl at her as he wondered how to undo the colour change that Syrena and Violet had invoked. Curse those girls, he didn't know where they had got their personalities from . . . Rose and Delphin had never behaved like . . . like . . . like Weasley Twins!

"Change it back," he snapped crossly, folding his hands and tapping his bare foot on the ground in an effort to imitate the stance she always took when she was angry.

"How am I supposed to do that?" she asked, amused by his antics. Accidental magic was often extremely powerful and could rarely be safely reversed by anyone who wasn't the caster.

"You are the brightest witch of your age," Draco pouted, "Figure something out."

Hermione sighed, sometimes she felt as though she had six grandchildren, not five.

"Finite Incantantem," she muttered pointing her wand at his head and stifling a giggle as instead of returning to its usual shade of platinum streaked grey, the hair began curl.

"HERMIONE!" he screamed, after his hopes had been dashed by looking into the mirror for a second time.

"Shut up, you big baby," groaned Hermione as she disappeared out the door. Five minutes later she was back, and Draco gulped audibly when he saw what she was holding in her hands.

_Peroxide_

"Malfoys do not bleach their hair," he sniffled as she forced him into a chair and shoved his whining head into the sink.

"Well, Grangers says they do," she snapped as she began dying her husband's hair.

(*)(*)(*)

"So Lily, what have you been doing these past few years?" asked Scorpius in an attempt to make conversation as they tucked into their dinner. Thankfully, her cooking had improved drastically over the years and was no longer like to give him food poisoning. He fondly remembered her culinary skills from her youth, when she had been unable to make a slice of toast without burning it and somehow setting the kitchen on fire in the process.

"I worked at the American Ministry after graduating from Salem," she said with a faint smile, "Their Department of International Magical Cooperation." Across the small dining table, Orion chanced a wink at his father – he had warmed to the man considerably after seeing that he intended to stand by his mother.

"What did you do there?" asked Scorpius curiously, his brother Hugo had worked in that department at the British Ministry when he had started in the field of magical law and from what Scorpius had heard it was not a very affable department.

"At first I was a secretary but after the Cataclysm I got promoted and worked mostly with the restoration effort."

Scorpius cringed at the blatant reminder of their world's most gruesome loss of life since the First Goblin Wars. The Cataclysm had damaged the very face of the earth, much of the Sahara was still submerged beneath the Mediterranean and Southern Asia had been decimated by earthquakes to the point where several landmasses had broken off the mainland and formed new islands. He knew that America and Australia had escaped the worst of the disaster due to their distance from England but the tsunamis that had shattered their coastlines had killed millions.

"What about you?" asked Lily after a lengthy silence which had been punctuated only by the clink of cutlery on crockery.

"CEO for Malfoy Holdings," he said somewhat proudly, he was after the all the youngest director the company had ever had, having taken the reigns from his father when he was barely out of his teenage years.

"Then you can hire mum!" exclaimed Orion suddenly, looking up from his plate with the air of a child who had just solved everything.

"Ryan!" Lily admonished her son but Scorpius was gazing at them with interest.

"Surely you have a job by now," he said and Lily flushed in embarrassment, "You've been back for close to six weeks."

"My final exam scores aren't the best," she admitted, "I had Ry a week before they started and well . . ." she drifted off.

"We do have a few vacancies in the public relations department," he said slowly and then he narrowed his eyes when she began shaking her head.

"You don't have to do that, Scorpius," she replied.

"Either you come work at Malfoy Holdings," he said in a firm voice, "Or I pay you child support every month and trust me when I say I will be paying a lot more than most fathers if you choose that option."

Lily hesitated, her pride wouldn't allow her to take the latter option as she didn't want it known that she lived of his money. On the other hand she didn't want people to think that she had just been given the job because she used to sleep with the boss. She turned slightly to gauge her son's reaction and he was looking at her with such a hopeful look in his eyes that it decided her. She knew it hadn't been easy for him because they had never had much money and especially now with the expenses that accompanied the move she had had to get several of his school things second hand. Once again, her pride hadn't allowed her to ask her brother or mother for money and she had been entertaining the notion of getting a muggle job so that they could get by, especially since the last of the money that Albus had given her before she left had been used to purchase their apartment.

"I'll take it on one condition," she said, biting her lip, "I want you to treat me the same as you would any other employee."

She fought the urge to laugh when father and son both beamed at her with identical Malfoy grins of victory. One thought filled her head.

_This must be what it feels like to have a family of your own._

(*)(*)(*)

Remy grinned good naturedly as his father pretended to act stern and berate him about his new tattoo. Victoire had walked into his bedroom that morning to collect his laundry (a flimsy excuse, in actual fact he suspected she had heard Demitria arrive last night) and had not only found the young couple – or whatever it was they were – in bed together, but she had also instantly noticed the angel inked onto his bicep.

He had never truly known the depths of his mother's veela temper until that moment, when it had taken his father and Aunt Dominique to keep her from leaping onto him and pummelling him with a wooden spoon.

Thankfully his father had agreed to have a stern word with him concerning his various body modifications and this had placated his mother to the extent that she had agreed.

Victoire had almost lost it again when Andy had asked if she could get a tattoo as well but had been calmed by Grandpa Bill, who knew more about controlling veela bloodlines than anyone else in the family.

"Now Remy, you know you're a metamorph and can change your appearance at will if you're unhappy with it," Teddy admonished, "Must you aggravate your mother so?"

"I like my tattoos and piercings, dad," said Remy in exasperation, "Mum needs to realise that I'm not a kid anymore."

"We know you're not a kid anymore judging by how often you sneak that girl in," Teddy said wryly, "Don't look so surprised, did you really think your mother and I could be outwitted by a seventeen year old with a wand."

Remy had the grace to blush at this because yes, he had thought he had outsmarted them by keying Demitria into their wards and casting the permanent silencing charm on his bed. Teddy just shook his head, he was the Defence Against the Dark Arts Teacher for nearly fifteen years now – Remy may be good but he was not _as good._

"So can you please keep the modification to a minimum until you at least graduate from Hogwarts?" Teddy asked finally when his son had fallen silent.

"I suppose," he mumbled, not looking his father in the eye for the first time in his life because Demi and him had done some pretty crazy things and if his father knew about them then . . .

"Now tell me about this girl," grinned Teddy, revelling in this rare moment that he had his son embarrassed, "Why was she giggling so much last night?"

"DAD!"

(*)(*)(*)

Scorpius grinned at his former lover as he sat beside her on the couch, nursing a glass of the wine he had brought. After many protests, Orion had agreed to go to bed – only after he had extolled a promise from Scorpius that he would be coming by more often.

He had grinned at that because if things went his way then he would be seeing a lot more of his son. The decision had been made in his head from that moment in the kitchen when he had embraced Lily, he would end things with Adrianna and be with the woman he loved instead.

Because though love was painful and happiness was never guaranteed as he and Lily had proved time and time again, it was worth it.

He would rather be miserable (even though he doubted he would be) with his son and Lily than happy with Adrianna Zabini.

Scorpius had finally found what he had craved for so long and as a slightly tipsy Lily leaned her head onto his shoulder he smiled and whispered:

"Family."

(*)(*)(*)

_A/N: So this concludes Arc 1 of Call Me Home. Next Chapter will take place with a minor time leap, one or two years after Orion had started Hogwarts. This is because whilst the focal point of this story is their relationship, I need to begin the next arc and I don't want to draw out the story (make it ramble)_

_Updates will be a little slower – I start work tomorrow and eight hour shifts are going to eat into a lot of my free time. I will try to make sure that the story is updated at least once or twice a week though. _


	6. Chapter 5

**Call Me Home**

**Chapter Five**

**Penance of the Damned**

A gaunt man lay upon the rough stone floor; breathing in short, ragged breaths of the musty air that permeated the Black Cells of Azkaban. He had just woken from his tormented sleep which had as usual been plagued by the nightmares and ill dreams that left him soaked in sweat and shivering. His hair fell to his waist in matted tendrils, so unlike the dishevelled mop he had once been famous for.

He scratched at an itchy spot on his neck with claw-like fingernails, not even flinching at the dried blood upon his filthy skin. It was not his own blood, rather it had been the blood of his dinner. The Dementors often forgot to feed the inhabitants of the prison and he mostly feasted on the lichen and rats which filled the dank cavern.

The Black Cells, hewn from the rock themselves, often filled with seawater when the tide was high and those who called these bleak caves their home would be forced to find purchase on one of the higher shelves that clawed their way out of the rock near the ceiling.

It was that or be drowned; and Harry, no matter how miserable his life had become, chose to live. He had died once and whilst he had seen the peace that the afterlife held, he no longer held any illusions that he would be permitted to enter the fabled paradise that lingered beyond the veil.

No, he knew that he would suffer for his crimes. Eight years in these cells had made his follies so very clear to him. He had been so blinded by his own prejudices that he had torn his own family apart – it was he who had caused the devastation that had befallen the Potters, not Albus. His boy had been an innocent casualty of his own deranged vendetta.

Family shouldn't leave each other unless they had to, it was what he had preached but not been able to put into practice. He had wanted a family all his life and then when he had them he had been so terrified of losing them that he had driven them all away.

He would never be able to make amends to Albus, not now that his son was dead and cold in the warm embrace of the earth. Albus would know the joy of Heaven for he was pure . . . purer than Harry could ever hope to be. There was no doubt in his fragmented mind that he would suffer in the darkest pits of the abyss for what he had done.

He had thought that Slytherin had taken his son, he had let his own childhood perceptions colour his personality to the point where _he had been the one to take his son out of his life!_ The first time he had hit Albus, he had been drunk and unable to rein in his anger at the House of Green and Silver. He had been appalled when he had woken the next morning, bent over the toilet to throw up his dinner of firewhiskey and birthday cake when he had glimpsed his son cast the glamours over his bruised face.

Then later that holiday he had hit him again because strangely enough he had thought that it had given him a semblance of control. He had believed that he was breaking the evil out of Albus, beating out the inherent darkness that he himself had known and had been terrified had passed into his son. Because of all his children, Albus had been the most like him.

He hated himself for it but over time the hate had become directed at his son, because the blows to his ego just kept coming. First, he had become a Slytherin. Then he had flooded their home with his Slytherin lackeys. Then he had taken up smoking and begun dabbling in dark magic.

Then he had fallen in love with a Malfoy.

Harry only realised that his son had been pushed into dark magic and abusing cigarettes by him. He had been convinced he was breaking the darkness within his son – instead he had only succeeded in breaking his boy.

Now that he languished before the Dementors and was forced to relive his memories he could see how wrong he was. He was a cancer who had blighted his entire family. Hermione, who had been his sister in all but blood, was but one of those he had hurt in his malice. He had been too blinded by his hate for Malfoy the boy to realise that Malfoy the man was a completely different person . . . he loathed himself for not trusting Hermione's judgement.

He had been amongst those who had pushed for Ron and her to be married. By doing so he had not only broken the man who was incarcerated in the cell beside him, but he had denied his best female friend in the world nearly twenty years of happiness.

Ginny, James, Lily, Teddy, he had hurt them all in more ways than he could count but there was nothing that made him feel guiltier than the way he had treated his son. He deserved this punishment, he deserved to suffer in this hell on earth.

He had taken from Albus his son.

He had killed his own grandchild in his perverse desire to protect their world . . .

Harry Potter wished that he could die, if only so that he would know true punishment for his crimes.

(*)(*)(*)

"_Daddy, can you read me another bedtime story?" asked Teddy Lupin with a hopeful grin on his face as he scurried into his godfathers lap. _

"_Teddy," said Harry in a cautious tone as he surveyed the five-year -old in his lap, "I love you like a son, you know that right?" Teddy nodded quickly, still pushing his copy of 'The Tales of Beedle the Bard' at Harry._

"_But I'm your godfather, not your dad," continued Harry, cringing when the boy's hair shifted to a drab, mousy brown._

"_But . . . But . . . But you are my daddy," he said, his lip trembling as he clung to his godfather, "YOU ARE!"_

"_Teddy," whispered Harry as he stroked the boy's back. He thought for a few minutes, would it really matter if he let Teddy call him, daddy? Would Remus mind? No, he decided after a while. Remus wouldn't mind that Teddy referred to Harry as his father, just as long as the boy knew who his real father was. _

"_Son," said Harry with a faint smile, "How about I tell you a story about a werewolf?" Teddy brightened instantly, clapping his hands in excitement. _

"_Werewolves are cool!" he exclaimed, causing Harry to chuckle because he knew that his godson was well aware of his hybrid lineage. _

Harry woke with a start, coughing dryly as he felt the cold sweat on the back of his grimy neck. Reaching out an emaciated arm, he cupped a handful of seawater from a lingering pool and washed, trying desperately to cleanse himself of the memories and the filth at once.

It didn't work.

He knew that he would have no respite. He would never have a respite from the anguished pain he so rightfully deserved. His only wish these days was to go back in time so that he could change things, or failing that have the opportunity to Avada the younger version of himself. Yes, that would leave Albus, James and Lily fatherless but it would also have spared his children so much torment. Not to mention Teddy, who had been his son in all but blood.

He felt his heart tighten as another memory gushed to the surface of his mind, brought forward by the dreams of his godson. He felt himself wince at the thoughts.

"_Harry," said Teddy in a cool voice as he answered the door, his smile dropping as soon as it fell onto his godfather. _

"_Hey, Teddy," replied Harry in a casual voice – inwardly cursing Albus' name for fracturing the relationship between him and his godson – and gave the young metamorphmagus a brief smile. Teddy frowned in response before speaking, not bothering to hide the bite in his tone._

"_Why are you here?" _

"_I haven't seen you in weeks," pushed Harry, "I want to see how big my grandson has gotten."_

"_I don't think that's a good idea, Harry," replied Teddy. _

"_Why not!"_

"_I don't want a person like you around my son," Teddy snapped, feeling some slight sense of vengeance for his god-brother Albus, whose abuse inflicted bruises he had seen that year at school._

"_I'm his grandfather!" protested Harry as his jaw threatened to drop. _

"_No you are not," said the half-werewolf succinctly, "His grandfather's name was Remus Lupin."_

Harry sighed before rolling onto his side to try and get back to sleep. At least when he slept he was free from the gnawing hunger that was always present in his belly.

Harry had never felt so alone in his life than he had at this point in time.

He closed his eyes, praying fervently that he would not suffer another dream. His prayers where in vain. . .

(*)(*)(*)

"_Daddy!" yelled a four-year- old James, running up to his father and holding his broken broomstick in his hand. It was a just a toy and would fly just high enough to allow his toes to skim the grass but James treasured his broomstick. It was his most prized possession, right after his two-year-old brother, Albus. Harry was thrilled about the relationship between his boys, Albus idolised his older brother just as James was fiercely protective of him in turn. Harry didn't even point out how odd it was for James to refer to Albus as "his."_

_It was something Harry had always craved in his youth, the joy of having a sibling and he brooked no arguments on the subject, going so far as to throw Ron out of Grimmauld Place for a week when the other man had suggested his boys were becoming co-dependent._

_He hoped they would always be that close. _

"_My broomstick broke!" the toddler held up the splintered wood to his father, teary eyed and nibbling at his lip. It was a habit he had taken up in place of sucking his thumb or biting his nails – Harry blamed Ginny's great cooking leaving residual flavour on their lips. _

"_What happened, Jamie?" asked Harry, dropping to his knees beside his son._

"_The tree is mean," explained James, his childish innocence and naivety colouring his choice of words. Harry sighed, knowing this probably meant James had been trying to impress his brother and ended up flying into the beech they had growing in their small back garden. _

_A few hours later, a father walked out of a crowded store in Diagon Alley with two sons. The eldest boy was carrying a brand new broomstick and the youngest was being entertained by his new toy snitch. Harry smiled as he led his boys back to the Leaky Cauldron to floo home before Ginny returned from work, knowing his wife would be very unhappy that he had replaced the expensive toy without disciplining James first. _

"_I love you, daddy," said James once they got home, hugging his father's knee as tightly as he could. _

"_Wuv daddy more," protested Albus as he hugged his father around the neck so tightly he nearly strangled him._

Harry woke screaming, because the memories hurt more than the hunger and thirst that existed in these Black Cells.

(*)(*)(*)

The days blurred as they past, as they always had for the past eight years, ever since he had been cast into this hell on earth for his sins. The Black Cells of Azkaban made Golgotha, Place of Skulls, seem like a biblical paradise by comparison. There was not a single part of his body that did not ache, he only ate once every three to four days.

If only he was brave enough to bring one of the sharp, salt-stained rocks to his wrists . . . or remain below the rising tide so that he could just die. But he was terrified of the judgement that he would be then faced with. The fear, in addition to the bitter knowledge that he deserved this fate, was all that stayed his hand.

He didn't want to have to face his son's spirit in the afterlife, if by some chance miracle he got the opportunity to meet him. Nor did he think he could face his parents who had died for him and then seen him become a hero before descending into the world of monsters and becoming their king.

A dull shriek split the air, raspy and torn from the cell beside him and Harry cringed at his best friend's pain. Ron had always been accustomed to the comforts of home and hearth, a doting mother and a substantial bank balance to help him indulge in his luxuries. Even when Ron had been in Azkaban after killing Claire Williams, his cell had been on the same level as one of those muggle hotel suites Hermione had modelled _The Rose_ with permanent patronus charms cast on it to stave off the Dementors. His prison sentence had been made to appear rough to the public eye but was more along the lines of a six month vacation.

The Black Cells had changed Ron's idea of incarceration but from what Harry could hear of his deranged ramblings; Ron had not made peace with his sins as he had. Whilst Harry now knew that they both deserved what they got, Ron still screamed out at empty air that he was innocent and that he would get revenge.

Harry pitied him. Harry envied him.

His miserable life with be so much easier if he could still blame others for his failings rather than be confronted by the vestiges of memories from a happier time in contrast to how perverse they had become.

Teddy, the son he had never asked for but loved all the same, the son who had disowned him.

James, the son who had symbolised all that he had ever wanted, a family of his own, who had punched him the stomach till he vomited blood as payment for the pain that had been inflicted on their family because of Harry.

Albus, the son he had promised to always love who he had killed. Yes, James may have been forced to pull the trigger but it was Harry whose name was engraved upon the bullet.

Lily, the daughter who had always run to him for protection from the big bad world before growing up into a strong, fiery young woman. The daughter who had fled the country because she had been afraid of him.

His children whose names were carved into him by the slate that littered his chamber, he had cut them into his torso so often that the scars had long become permanent. He needed no reminder when it came to Ginny though, her name still bled fresh across his heart, still raw from the day of his trial when she had looked at him with such revulsion that he had felt the urge to curl up and die. His ex-wife had never looked at anyone with that much loathing, not even Bellatrix and Voldemort during the final battle.

He sighed and rolled over, hoping for a dreamless sleep. What else was there to do in this wasteland.

(*)(*)(*)

Three weeks passed before it happened, a warm white light seeming to grow from the lingering darkness of the cavern. Harry looked up curiously from his meal, a rare treat of raw fish that had been washed into the cell by the last tide, wondering if this was perhaps another torture devised by the Malfoys. The family had been hurt badly by his actions, perhaps worse than his own had, and new trials were often added to The Black Cells to remind the prisoners that they did not forgive those who had hurt them.

His mouth went dry as he saw the light take shape, fiery red hair falling over a heart shaped face as sorrowful, emerald eyes gazed at him. The darkness and chill seemed to recede, filling the air around him with soothing warmth as the woman approached.

He had seen her twice before in his life, excluding his first year upon this world when she had still been alive. The first time had been in the Mirror of Erised, the second had been with the help of the resurrection stone in the Forbidden Forest before he had died to kill Voldemort.

The thought amused him, he was the Master of Death, having united the three hallows and look at him now . . . a fiendish bastard who deserved to rot in the blackest pits of Hell. It seemed there was some irony in the world, so much like the tale of the Three Brothers who had been corrupted by Death in the beginning.

"Do you hate me?" he asked the woman, his voice crackling like shards of ice crashing to the floor.

"No," she said in a soft, sad voice as she came to sit beside him upon the floor, her spectral body radiating with the heat and serenity he had only known once before, in that brief time when he had died.

"I do not hate you, Harry," Lily Evans continued, "But I am so disappointed in you."

Her words stung him worse than he had expected, her hate and scorn he could deal with. But to know that he had disappointed the mother who had given her life for him . . . that was just another dagger through his rotting heart.

He didn't even bother contemplating how his deceased mother had manifested within The Black Cells of Azkaban; he had seen much stranger things in his life. At the very least she did not appear to be a Shadow and he absurdly wished he could have paid greater attention in History of Magic so as to better understand what his mother had become.

"I am a Daemon," she said, plucking the thoughts from his head and answering them. She was strong, not as powerful as The Dark Lady but still strong enough to engage in telepathy and mild telekinesis. Lily knew that she would not be able to thwart The Dark Lady on her own for she was but a harbinger from behind the Veil, sent back to prepare the world for the coming conflict.

"A Guardian Spirit," said Harry in wonder as he reached out to try and touch her, wincing involuntarily as his hand passed through her as if she was made of mist and light. He opened his mouth to speak again but she silenced him with a look.

"Sleep now, son," she said, "We will talk in the morning."

(*)(*)(*)

Lily Evans stared at her sleeping son, sorrow and pity flooding her essence as she took in his skeletal frame and scarred skin. Her boy had destroyed himself, had destroyed his family but she could not hate him.

As his mother she could never bring herself to hate him, she may feel ashamed of his actions but in the end she would always love him.

His role in the coming war was fast approaching. He was the Master of Death and Lily knew that only he could bring back the one would the power to vanquish The Dark Lady. To battle something so dark and depraved their side would need a paragon of innocence and purity to lead them into the apocalyptic fight.

The tides of war were rising faster than she had initially predicted, the Doors of Death hung on by just a single hinge as the Cultists prepared for their ritual. For just as Death had a Master, it also had a Mistress . . . and the Cultists would no doubt use her to bring back their darkest weapon. Lily prayed with all her heart and soul that that may be averted but she knew that lest she acted quickly, what had been foretold would come to pass.

She couldn't fail her family again.

Two sides were vying in a fight that would determine the fate of the world. Both had champions that needed to be brought back from beyond the Veil and it was this that made Lily look at her son with such sadness. Yes, she was sad to see what he had become but her sorrow stemmed from knowledge that ran far deeper than her familial pain.

Harry would have to give life to their side's hero . . . but only death can pay for life.

_(*)(*)(*)_

_A/N: Sorry for the late update my good readers, this officially begins Arc 2 of Call Me Home and is a shade darker than Arc 1. _

_Please do leave me your thoughts in your reviews; I do look forward to reading them. The next chapter will be up within the next three days. _

_Oh yes, just another reminder that Arc 2 has a two year time jump from the moment of Scorpius and Lily's reconciliation._


	7. Chapter 6

**Call Me Home**

**Chapter Six**

**Pictures of You**

Draco smirked as he snuck up behind his wife, his footsteps charmed to be silent as his twin granddaughters' stifled giggles. Hermione was cooking and had not heard him come home for the night, so he had decided to surprise her much to Violet and Syrena's amusement. The four year olds were trouble makers to the extreme and often managed to get him involved in their schemes.

He should have learned his lesson when they had convinced him to buy them a dog . . . Rose had taken one look at the Labrador and given it to Hagrid, who apparently needed companionship now that Fang had died. What was marginally worse was that Draco had become attached to the hound and was hoping that Rose with let the girls keep it purely so that he could visit on occasion. Hermione point blank refused to let him bring a dog home to the Manor, it was her opinion that she already had to look after five little devils and she did not need a hellhound as well.

He had pouted but given in because whilst he was the Minister of Magic and ruled Wizarding Britain, it was Hermione Malfoy who ruled him at home.

"BOO!" he shouted as he came up behind her and grabbed her by her shoulders. She jumped in shock before whirling; smashing the hot ladle she was holding against his left cheek. Draco yowled in pain, his hand flying to clutch at the scalded flesh as Hermione's hands flew to her mouth in horror. Behind them, the Zabini Twins grasped at each other to keep from falling of their chairs due to their excessive laughing. This was because to them there was nothing in the world that was more fun than causing Grandpa Draco physical harm . . . other than winding Grandma Hermione up till she was screaming at them like a banshee.

"Merlin, Draco!" exclaimed Hermione as she helped him to one of the chairs, drawing her wand to begin healing his cheek.

"You hit me with a spoon," Draco spluttered in a shocked voice, causing his granddaughters to laugh harder than ever, "You could have killed me!"

"I doubt I would have killed you," Hermione rolled her eyes as a steady stream of blue light flowed from the tip of her wand and began soothing his burned skin.

"Why were you sneaking up on me anyway," she narrowed her eyes as she continued. He flushed and tried not to meet her gaze, though he shot guilty glances at the two toddlers sitting at the table.

"You two!" Hermione said in a stern voice, catching her husband's look and sounding surprisingly like Molly Weasley had whenever she had disciplined Fred and George.

"What did you two monsters do?" she glared at the two of them, the two girls quailing slightly under her stern gaze.

"Nothing, Grandma 'Mione," said Syrena, her lower lip trembling in an attempt to guilt their grandmother into not disciplining them.

"We didn't mean for Granpa Draco to get hit with the spoon," added Violet, but there was a mischievous look in her eyes that she had failed to hide. Hermione raised her eyebrow whilst Draco nursed his slightly swollen cheek in the background.

"We just thought it would be funny," said Syrena, glaring at her sister for giving away their prank.

"To see you jump," explained Violet when both Malfoys stared at the girls questioningly.

"You know what I think is really funny," said Hermione with a sly smile that sent shivers down Draco's spine, "That the tub of bubblegum ice-cream your Uncle Scorpius bought for you two is going to be eaten by Grandpa Draco and I tonight."

The girls looked at their grandmother in horror and Draco chuckled at his wife because really, it took one hell of a woman to be able to keep the Malfoy's in line.

(*)(*)(*)

Rose stared out across the grounds of Hogwarts, the view from her office window offering her a perfect vantage point with which to survey the area. She could make out a small crown of students swimming through the Black Lake and the sight of platinum hair flashing in the morning light brought a smile to her face. Her nephew had adapted to Hogwarts quite quickly and whilst he still had a few American mannerisms it was for the most part difficult to understand that he was from another country. Orion was full of surprises though, the entire family had been stunned senseless when the Sorting Hat had placed him in Gryffindor. Despite his unexpected sorting, Scorpius was not Harry and it filled Rose with joy whenever she saw how her brother doted on his son.

She missed her own girls; it had been a week since she had last been home. It was an incredibly busy time as the school year had just begun and her duties as Headmistress kept her from leaving Hogwarts till all was settled. Most parents willed their children to remain young but she eagerly wished for her girls to reach Hogwarts age so that she may see them every day, she felt hollow when they were not around.

She just hoped the pair weren't causing her parents too much trouble.

The school was quiet this year; it was the beginning of Orion's third year which meant it had been exactly a year since the Avery family had disappeared of the face of the earth. She tried not to think about them often, but Xavier and Kat had been two of her best friends so when they both had left on their international vacation she had not expected them to be gone so long without so much as a letter being sent to them. Matthew was supposed to begin Hogwarts next year, Riley would have long grown out of his toddler phase and yet she had seen neither hide nor hair of the four of them in two long years.

It stung that her best friends could have so casually forgotten them all.

Today on the other hand also marked the one year anniversary that her school was free of the troublesome, prankish, slightly insane Remy Lupin and his partner in crime, Demitria Pierce and for that she was duly grateful. Remy had been the grandson of a Marauder and the great-nephew of the Weasley Twins. It was a lethal combination, especially as he was the veritable leader of their generation Marauders, whom had been christened _The Wolf Pack_.

Rose found this amusing considering that Remy had been one quarter werewolf. She had been less impressed when she discovered that whilst he was unable to transform, he boasted strength and agility beyond that of a normal humans. Despite all of this, she had grown to like the student for his bright personality – especially after the incident in Orion's first year when a group of sixth year Ravenclaws had been bullying him. When Remy was done with the bullies they had spent a week in the hospital wing to recover from the savage mauling they had received in return for preying on the metamorphmagus' cousin.

Demitria had been another story all together. She was cold were Remy was warm and yet complemented him as the sun did the moon. The punkish girl was lethal with a wand, deadly with a knife – as those same Ravenclaws could attest to – and Rose had only ever seen her smile when around Remy. She wondered how her former students were doing and considered dropping them a line then thought better of it. Both of them had just finished their Auror training and where no doubt extremely busy with their new job. Nevertheless she made a mental note to check up on them soon, they were after all distant relatives of hers.

Her thoughts were diverted back to the children swimming in the lake without a care in the world. Rose envied them their childhoods; they reaped the benefits of what the Outcasts had once sown. She had given up so much in her youth for their cause; she had lost so much that she rarely thought about her own years at Hogwarts. They had been darker times, when bigoted individuals like Harry Potter and Ron Weasley had still held sway. When Neville Longbottom had tortured Slytherin students for his own sick pleasure and when Albus had still been alive. . .

Albus. Thinking of him often drove invisible daggers through her spine, paralysing her with her envenomed pain. They had grown up together, back in the days when she had still believed Ron to be her father, when their family had accepted them for who they were. They had climbed trees at the Burrow, read the books her mother had leant them, help their older cousins annoy Molly and Lucy and sometimes just spent hours making kissy faces at Teddy and Victoire till the part-veela would snap at them.

She had learned to cherish her memories of him rather than wallow in self-pity but at the same time she hated the world for being so cruel as to take him from them. He had been more than their leader in the Outcast rebellion. He had been their family.

She was started from her contemplative musings by the roar of emerald flames in her fireplace. She turned, a smile breaking over her face as Delphin walked out with a grin on his face.

"Hey, love," he said, smelling of the magical creature sanctuary he worked at as he took her into his arms. She wrinkled her nose and pushed him away, rolling her eyes at the look of mock annoyance on his face.

"You reek," she stated bluntly, standing on tiptoes so as to kiss him on his nose. Delphin raised an eyebrow at her.

"Is that how you speak to your husband after not seeing him for a week?" he admonished in a faux stern voice as he folded his well muscled arms and glared at her reproachfully.

"Yes," she said with amusement evident in her voice, "Especially if he forgets to bath in that week."

"Hey!" he exclaimed, "You know what it's like at the sanctuary this time of year." It was true; caring for such a large assortment of magical creatures during the fall was a sweaty task. Take into account that autumn was mating season for many of the creatures and she knew her husband was like to be working overtime to control them.

"You still need to take a shower," she pointed out.

"Is yours free?" he asked with a smirk and Rose shivered slightly in anticipation. She grinned as she led her husband to her private quarters and could feel his smirk deepen behind her without looking. Years may have passed and they may be parents but their sex life had remained as active as it ever was, so she was determined to ensure her husband was thoroughly cleaned by his shower.

After all, it was such a waste of water to shower alone.

(*)(*)(*)

Victoire walked into her living room holding two cups of tea and coming to sit beside her brother, yawning as fatigue from her triple shift at the hospital began to catch up to her. St. Mungo's was incredibly busy these days due to a recent outbreak of dragon pox and this was then coupled with the Law Enforcement Ward being in use for the first time in years. Aurors and Order agents were being injured a lot more regularly during their field missions and through the connections she had heard rumours of a mysterious cult that was gathering on the fringes of society.

It was what filled her heart with worry for her son was a fully trained field Auror. She had thus been thankful when Remy had announced his decision to take time off from work and see the world with Demitria. Victoire hadn't initially been fond of the rebellious girl but had accepted her warmly once she saw how happy she made her son, even if the two youngsters were too stubborn to admit that they bore deep feelings for each other. When they had moved in together, Nana Molly had raised quite a few protests about the arrangement but her protests have been quelled by Victoire who cared more for her son's happiness than for old fashioned values.

Louis had come by to talk about their sister's new lover. Dominique had shocked the family by falling in love with a muggle and had then put down her wand when he had stated that magic made him uncomfortable. Louis and Victoire had both argued with their sister that magic was a part of who she was and that she shouldn't have to change herself to be loved. Dominique countered that some things were worth being sacrificed when it came to love.

Their wedding was a month away and the family had no choice but to accept it. They had learned the hard way what could happen when they didn't accept the choices of those they loved . . . it had cost Albus his life and son but it had softened the Weasley's ire towards Slytherins and their ilk.

The sibling's conversation was interrupted by a harsh knocking on the front door. Puzzled as to who would be calling at this late hour, Victoire went to answer it. Louis stood and went with her, his hand grasped around his wand. As a journalist he too had heard rumours of the Cult and knew that his it was unwise for woman, even those as ferocious as his sister, to be answering the doors so late into the night. The fact that her husband was an ex-auror and her son an active Auror made it that she was also as good a choice as any for a victim.

Victoire opened the door, exposing the sight of a regal looking woman standing on the threshold. The woman was extremely beautiful and well dressed, carrying herself with an air of haughtiness and superiority that instantly caused the Weasley's to dislike her.

"Is this the Lupin residence?" inquired the woman as she surveyed the siblings with a nasty expression on her face, as if she had just smelled something distasteful.

"It is," said Victoire, "And you are?"

"Opalneria Pierce," was the response, spoken in a tone that implied that they should already know this for some strange reason. Victoire frowned at her son's lover's mother, curious as to why Opalneria would have shown up on her doorstep. From what she had heard of Opalneria, she was an extremely vindictive person and Victoire had no intention of letting her in.

"I have come for my daughter," sniffed the woman, "I am told she has been staying with your _son_." Victoire felt her brother tense behind her at the manner in which the woman said the word; it was if she was considering speaking another term entirely. Instantly, Victoire felt her temper begin to grow.

"Surely you know that Remy and Demitria are currently in Spain?" scoffed Louis, his expression and voice icy. He regarded his nephew and niece as his own children, especially considering his own sexuality made it unlikely that he would ever have children of his own. It was not the first time they had had to deal with people who looked down on them because of their mixed bloodline.

"I did not know," Opalneria responded, "If I had then I would surely have put a stop to it . . . I cannot have my daughter cavorting about with such _halfbreeds_." Victoire felt Louis lay a restraining hand on her shoulder and she realised that her wand was sparking dangerously in her grasp. Opalneria stared at the brilliant red sparks warily and took a step back, intelligent enough to know she had caused grievous offence.

"Halfbreeds?" echoed Louis, despite him being the one holding his sister back he was trembling with rage.

Opalneria sniffled. "I did not mean to cause offence but surely you two must know what a freak that boy is," she said after a few minutes of silence.

"I happen to be his mother," spat Victoire, and she felt no shame in punching the older woman in the face hard enough to break her perfectly sculpted nose.

(*)(*)(*)

"You planning on coming home tonight, Scor?" asked Lily as she stepped into his office, smiling at her boyfriend of two years. Due to the nature of running such a massive conglomerate, Scorpius often worked late at this time of the year and Lily often found herself going to bed alone. She always woke to him beside her, however late he finished he would always come home to her and for Lily that was enough.

After the first six months of their relationship she had finally acceded to her son and boyfriend's nagging and had moved into Scorpius' penthouse. She had however kept the ownership of her own flat and leased it out; the monthly rent she received allowed her to have her own source of income which made her feel better. It made her feel as if she was not mooching of her rich lover or being overtly reliant on him as a means to sustain herself. Not that money was much of an issue for her anymore, even though she refused to take Scorpius' cash she was a hard worker and was held a high ranking position in the Malfoy Holdings Public Relations Department.

"I'll be late," he grunted, not looking up from the mountain of paperwork on his desk. She frowned at the sight, Scorpius was a very good CEO but he had never learned the skill of delegating and often took too much onto himself.

"Scorpius," she said in a stern tone, one she had mastered over the years of raising one Malfoy, "This is from the Potions Department and this," she pointed to another stack of documents, "Is from my Department. It isn't your job to oversee my work, or Cassiopeia's for that matter." He looked up at her rather sheepishly.

"I just need to make sure that everything is running smoothly, Lily," he said, biting his lip as she trained her patented glare on him.

"Everything is running smoothly," she pointed out, "Come home, you haven't had a full night's sleep in weeks."

"But . . ." he fell silent when she raised an eyebrow. Lily had long ago found that Orion and Scorpius were extremely similar and what worked with one often worked with the other. She, like every other Malfoy consort who had come before, had learned that it often fell to her to keep the men in her family in line.

"Fine," he grumbled as he rose from his desk, pointing his wand at the door to lock it for the night before whisking her towards the fireplace. Still mumbling about overzealous girlfriends under his breath, he floo'ed them both home. Lily winked victoriously as she pecked him on the cheek and disappeared into the kitchen to make dinner whilst he declared that he needed to shower.

The penthouse had been made much more homely in the past two years, it no longer resembled the bachelor pad it had when Scorpius had been dating Adrianna Zabini. Now there were pictures on the walls and a distinct air of warmth and family that Lily had missed for a long time. She bit back a smile as she glanced at the picture hung beside the kitchen doorway, James had taken it when she and Scorpius had invited his family over for dinner. Lily was standing beside the stove, Scorpius behind her with his arms around her waist and his lips on her throat. Orion was sitting at the island, helping himself to pumpkin juice and feigning disgust at the sight of his parents romancing each other.

Lily hadn't even known James had arrived till she saw the flash of the camera and turned to see him in the doorway. It was one of her favourites because it wasn't staged in the slightest and so perfectly represented her family.

She had also been thrilled that the relationship between James and Scorpius had grown so significantly in the past couple of years. Both parties had initially started getting along for her sake as they were both important to her, but over time they had built a solid friendship. Orion also had taken to his younger cousins quite well and despite the slight age difference was quite close to Trystane and Daniel – of course his favourite was Remy . . . Lily had discovered early on that all the children idolised Remy.

"What's for dinner?" asked Scorpius as he came into the kitchen, sniffing at the tantalising aroma of braising meat.

"Lamb chops and potato," answered Lily, shaking her head as his eyes seemed to glaze over at the thought of food. One thing that hadn't changed since she had first met him had been his prodigious appetite.

"What's the occasion?" he asked after a while as he began to wonder why his wife was cooking one of his favourites.

"How often do we get to spend an evening together?" she shot back and he instantly felt guilty. He had been really busy with work and Orion had taken up a lot of his time during the holidays which had meant his time with Lily had been cut into quite a bit.

"Not often enough," he agreed with her unspoken judgement.

Dinner was served and they tucked in heartily whilst making small talk, it was only once the meal was over and they were both on the sofa, her head nestled on his shoulder with his arm slung around her did he say:

"We're going to be doing this at least once a week from now on."

"Really?" she curled up against him in pyjama bottoms and one of his t-shirts, no make-up on with her hair tousled from her shower.

"Really," he repeated, pressing his lips to hers and she giggled as she moved to straddle him, the movie completely forgotten.

(*)(*)(*)

Aurora dipped her brush into the dollop of blue before streaking it across the blank canvas, forming the first vestiges of what would soon be the summer sky. Her emerald eyes shone with a childish delight as she painted, revelling in breaking in the professional set of artist brushes her Uncle Hugo had bought her – Cassiopeia had recently tried adopting a sterner hand in raising her daughter as she didn't want Aurora growing up to be a haughty, spoiled princess – but this had little effect considering that the young Potter had every one of her male in her family wrapped around her little finger.

"Hey, daddy," she said, smiling as she saw his Shadow recoil as if struck. From what she had heard her mother say, daddy was supposed to be invisible to everyone but Cassiopeia. Aurora didn't understand this though, she had never had a problem seeing her father although this was first time she had plucked up the courage to speak to him.

"See . . . me?" asked Albus weakly, flitting to kneel beside her easel as he watched her trace the rays of the sun across her still wet sky. His daughter truly was a talented artist, even at age eight she could capture a landscape so exquisitely that her parents were often staggered to see her art.

"Yes," she shrugged her small shoulders and turned to face him, her delicate fingers moving out to brush his icy silhouette. She didn't flinch at the cold, rather her smile widened as for the first time she was able to touch her daddy so to speak.

"Auro . . . ra," he whimpered, not understanding how she could see him, tears of black diamond forming in his eyes as he reached out and brushed his hand against hers in a perverse imitation of holding hands.

"Do you like the picture?" she asked in a voice filled with childish innocence.

"Very . . . pretty," he murmured.

Satisfied, she turned away and returned to her painting, the silver brushes moving deftly as she formed grassy hills dotted with red blooms and a stone-strewn stream, gushing from an orchard of apple trees. Albus found himself blown away by her skill, the landscape was gorgeous – smudged and minutely haphazard from her youth – but still so picturesque that he felt himself being drawn into it.

Aurora grinned happily when she was done, looking out the window and noting that the sun was now a molten slash across the horizon. She wiped her fingers across her dress, staining the pale pink cotton with vivid streaks of paint before she felt her door slide open.

"Time for a bath, Aurora," said Cassiopeia, her eyes widening as she saw Albus sitting on the edge of their daughter's bed and watching her with such longing in his eyes that it stung her soul with needles of white hot iron. She forced a trembling smile to her lips as Aurora pouted but complied, then turned to the dark outline on the bed.

"I love you, daddy," she said before scurrying off to the bathroom.

Cassiopeia felt her heart shatter just as it had twice before.

(*)(*)(*)

James walked with an easy dignity that he had come to master over the years. His face was an iron mask of courteousy, held in place to hold back his powerful emotions on the subject in mind. He had been called to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement by an owl from Hugo's office on urgent business concerning The Cult. It would seem that after months of stumbling blindly in all their dealings with the mysterious group they had finally managed to achieve something concrete to go on.

He nodded briefly in greeting at Hugo's secretary before entering the office, biting back a scowl when his eyes fell on Blaise Zabini, Director of Ghost Division. It was no secret that he detested their organisation, he felt that there should be a certain degree of honour and nobility amongst the magical world's law enforcement agencies. Blaise, for his part, maintained that James just didn't have the stomach to do what needed to be done and he would sincerely like to see one of his precious Order agents pull of an assassination as flawlessly as Ghost Division could.

"James," acknowledged Hugo, able to put on an air of familiarity because they were behind closed doors and also eager to diffuse the tension that he knew existed between the two men. He was spared further unrest by the timely arrival of Kingsley, who although aged was still as active and strong as ever. The bald-headed man nodded warmly at them all, his brow furrowed in confusion as he noted the other attendees.

"Hugo," James shook his hand and nodded cordially at Blaise before taking a seat and hoping that Hugo would get to the point of their meeting quickly. It did not bode well that the Head of the Department had assembled the Heads of the Aurors, the Order and Ghost Division – all they needed was Scorpius Malfoy and the Outcasts would be represented as well.

"Now that we all are here," said Hugo, "Blaise, if you would be so kind." James noted that Hugo was speaking in a very agitated tone of voice.

When Hugo noticed that he was been studied, he shrugged and mouthed, "He hasn't told me yet." James stomach tightened as if filled with lead, if Blaise had so far been silent then that meant it was a matter that was far above his own pay-grade.

"Two years ago we sent our best agent, Katherine Avery, to infiltrate the Cult of Shadows," began Blaise, instantly capturing James attention.

"Unlike the other agents who went before her, she was successful and has just been admitted entrance to their inner circle. However, she has uncovered something that is most troubling. This roll of film was sent for development by owl – it is unclear if she knew what the photos contained," he extricated a folder from his briefcase and placed in on Hugo's desk. Before The Head of Department could reach it however, Kingsley spoke in a terse voice:

"What of the aurors that were sent in to back her up?" James instantly whipped his head towards the two older men.

"You sent in aurors?" he asked incredulously. The aurors were not trained to handle such situations, they were their law enforcement forces – they were not agents.

"Both of them are fine," assured Blaise, "I received a patronus from _him_ yesterday." James got the feeling that the conversation was being censored due to his presence. He scowled, not liking that they were keeping things from him.

"Who did you send?" he asked, but there was a startled gasp from Hugo. Whirling, he felt the blood leave his face at the horrified expression on the younger man's face. Without a word, Hugo handed him a stack of photographs that had been enclosed in the folder.

James heart sank.

The first photograph showed Cassiopeia and Aurora in the gardens of Malfoy Manor, and then there was another of the two of them in Diagon Alley. The next showed Hermione standing beside the stove, it was obvious the photo had been taken from afar. There were others; Draco, Hugo, Rose, Delphin, Scorpius, Lily, Orion, Ginny, Xavier, Kat . . .

If his heart had sank when he had seen the first picture, then it rose again when it saw the last set, filled with burning rage as he flicked through them.

Himself.

Alison.

Trystane.

Daniel.

All four of them were under surveillance by the Cult of Shadows.

Then the significance of the picture before that of his family sank in.

"Katherine has been made," he said grimly, clenching his teeth because he was furious that his sons were at risk. He knew better than most what the Cult was capable of and he was already planning on ideas to put his family under heavy guard. His boys were his life, he would be damned if anybody had the chance to harm them.

"We need someone to extract her immediately," agreed Blaise, and suddenly everything became clear because really, who else was skilled enough to go in. Who else had experience fighting Shadows?

"You want to send me in," stated James, his eyes still trained on the picture of his sons playing innocently in his back garden whilst Alison sat in the shade of a large pine watching them, "When do I leave?"


	8. Chapter 7

**Call Me Home**

**Chapter Seven**

**White Gold and Rubies**

_A six-year-old Lily flashed her trademark puppy dog eyes at her father, silently pleading to not be in trouble. Harry was very tempted to acquiesce her demands and let the matter rest, but unfortunately he could not. Lily had performed accidental magic at her school, causing a pair of safety scissors to stab a boy in his arm. It had taken numerous memory charms to erase the damage and he knew that he would need to have a serious talk with his daughter to prevent any further incidents from occurring._

"_Why?" he asked finally, when they were safely ensconced within the walls of Grimmauld Place. James and Albus had both decided to come home with their father when he went to pick up Lily from the principal's office and had disappeared to their rooms, saying they wanted to play. Harry had rolled their eyes at this, they were obviously hiding on the upstairs landing so that they could spy on their usually angelic sister getting into trouble. _

_A faint smile crossed his face as he threw a muffliato charm up the stairs, closely followed by a screening charm to give his daughter and himself some privacy. As expected he heard loud groans of protest from his sons. _

"_That boy was a fucking bitch," said Lily in a naively innocent voice as Harry's jaw dropped._

"_Where did you learn that word?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Ginny was not in the general vicinity. He was being absurd and he knew it, Ginny was still probably still at work but he really didn't want her to hear such explicit language from their daughter's mouth._

"_Uncle Ron," she replied and Harry didn't know whether to feel relieved or angry. He was cross at his brother-in-law for speaking with such vulgarity in his daughter's presence, especially when she was at the age where she picked up every word a person said. At the same time he was glad that if Ginny found out, there would be someone to blame other than him. _

"_Those are bad words, Lily," said Harry sternly and Lily looked crestfallen. _

"_I didn't know," she said, sounding near to tears as he laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder. _

"_It's ok, just don't use words like that again," Lily nodded at her father as he continued to speak, "Now, what did that boy do to you?"_

"_We were all playing house and then he kissed me on the cheek," she said indignantly, "He gave me his cooties."_

_Harry found himself taking deep, soothing breaths in an effort to restrain himself. He wondered if it had been a good idea to heal the boy's arm instead of just finding another place to plant the scissors. Then he sighed, they were just children playing and Lily was much too young for him to be worried about anything untoward occurring. _

"_So you decided to attack him with a pair of scissors?" asked Harry, raising his eyebrow as the little girl had the grace to blush. _

"_Jay-Jay taught me how to do it," she replied, "and Al said that it was ok to do it if anyone tried picking on me." _

_Harry sighed again because what she was saying was no doubt the truth, the brothers were young but fiercely defensive of Lily and he knew they both had no qualms about teaching her how to better control her magic to protect herself. He would have to have words with them about what types of magic was acceptable and what wasn't . . . whilst he had no problem about them using their raw magic to levitate toys from high shelves or to pass each other the toast at breakfast, flinging sharp objects was frowned upon._

"_That was very naughty of you, Lily," scolded Harry, "It is mean and rude to throw a pair of scissors at someone, not to mention it could have seriously hurt him."_

"_BUT HE GAVE ME COOTIES!" yelled Lily, reminding Harry that she was half-Weasley. _

"_What are cooties?" he asked in confusion._

"_All boys have cooties, daddy," she explained in a tone of voice that suggested he was stupid, "They're dirty germs that make you sick."_

"_Oh?" Harry smiled in amusement, "What about Jamie, Al and I? Do we have cooties too?"_

"_No, you're my daddy and they're my brothers. I am immunisalised against them." she replied, frowning as she tried to pronounce 'immunised'._

"_I see, what about when you grow up and get married?"_

"_That's easy, daddy. I'm not going to get married because I always have my daddy."_

_She smiled brightly before slipping away, glad that the talk of cooties had distracted her father from punishing her for using magic against muggles._

Harry's eyes flared open, his palms slick with blood from where his nails had dug into his flesh. His breathing was harsh and ragged, his throat constricted from thirst as his mother gazed sorrowfully down upon him.

His baby girl, she had run because of him. He didn't even know if she was still alive or if she had perished in the Cataclysm that had so scarred their world. He was her father, he should have always been there to protect her, rather than fill her with such fear that she would flee to protect her infant from him. To an extent, he was glad that she had left so that he had been unable to work any harm against her child. There was a time when he would have scoffed at the idea that he would hurt his own grandchild but that had been before Albus' boy?

What was his name? Harry puzzled for a moment before it came to him. Leo . . . named for the celestial lion. His grandson had been an innocent babe in the womb, still pure to the malignity of the world and yet he had killed him. That was Harry's greatest regret, all he had wrought against his own children and wife paled in comparison to the guilt that ate at his being.

He groaned loudly as he crawled towards the tiny stone basin that had been delivered that morning, filled with fresh water. He took a sip, just a few drops to quench the burning in his throat before crawling back to the rock upon which he slept and rolled over in an attempt to get comfortable.

Then he succumbed to sleep, hoping that his dreams would be more pleasant than the nightmare of his life.

They rarely were.

(*)(*)(*)

Cassiopeia cursed under her breath as she haphazardly stuffed a change of clothes into her daughter's little pink backpack whilst slipping into a pair of boots, hurrying because for the first time in a long time, she was late for work. Last night had been a rare occurrence, when her brothers had convinced her to cut loose and indulge in a few drinks with them to relax. She had acquiesced to their demands, after much prodding from Albus who insisted she needed to enjoy herself more, and one drink had led to the four Malfoys of her generation getting thoroughly sloshed.

She regretted her lapse in judgement this morning, the blunt knife of her hangover cutting through her brain enough to ensure that she would never so much as touch a bottle of liquor that Scorpius had procured again. Then again, Albus had been happy at what he had seen, so that made it all worth it in the end.

"Hurry up, mummy," heckled Aurora, "I want to visit Aunt Rose!" The little girl folded her hands and tapped her foot, her posture the spitting image of her uncles' whenever Draco hadn't gotten them what they wanted in their youths.

Grumbling, Cassiopeia got to her feet and grabbed her daughters backpack, rolling her eyes at the girl's insistence. It was currently the Christmas holidays and Rose was very eager to spend her time away from Hogwarts with her various nephews and nieces. The poor woman, mused Cass, really didn't know what she was getting into.

Then again, Orion would likely be there and Cassiopeia had found herself often relying on her eldest nephew to exercise control over the chaotic Malfoy brood. It was a thought that brought a smile to her face, her grandfather Lucius may be rolling over in his grave at what his family had turned into.

Approaching the twisting staircase of the Manor, she turned back for a moment to make sure Aurora wasn't trying to smuggle her gigantic, stuffed unicorn to her cousin's house. Sparkles was the envy of the other girls in the family and Cassiopeia tactfully made certain that the unicorn was never left around where the others could see, so as to discourage fighting between the children. She gasped when she lost her footing, not realising how close to the stairs she had been, tethering precariously on the heels of her boots upon the very last inch of the landing.

"Mummy!" screamed Aurora, as Cassiopeia stumbled in an attempt to regain her balance. For a split second she seemed to have recovered, but then with a sharp snap the heel of her boot broke and she fell.

The staircases of Malfoy Manor were elegant in their design yet brutal in their steep incline and in those few seconds where time seemed to slow, Cassiopeia realised that she may well not survive the fall. Surprisingly, the thought did not fill her with dread as it did many others. Having lived through hell, she no longer feared death. Her heart slowed to a crawl, her daughter's frantic screaming echoing in the vast confines of the like a bittersweet melody to her soul. She had lived eight long years without Albus, a decade without Leo, did she not deserve her rest now that Aurora was nearing her ninth birthday. Guilt welled in her, a fountain that seemed to never end but it was battered down by the ever-present longing to just close her eyes and slip away to lie with Albus behind the Veil.

Her eyes flared open when a strong hand closed around her wrist, warm and youthful. Her fall broken inches before her head was due to meet the first sharp step, she felt herself being pulled back to her feet. Cassiopeia stared around the landing so as to lay eyes upon her saviour. A frown broke across her face; save for Aurora who was staring at her with a stunned, reverent expression painted across her features, there was nobody there.

Could it have been Albus? She shook of the thought, for whilst he could have used his own brand of Shadow magic to save her, his touch with have been cold as ice.

"Who's there?" she asked cautiously, rubbing her wrist as if to savour the blissful sensation that had leeched into her skin from her rescuer's touch. She stepped protectively close to Aurora and drew her wand, ready to defend them both in the unlikely situation that the being meant them harm.

A light breeze wafted in through the open window, surrounding the Potter women with the reassuring scents of family, safety and deep, biting sorrow.

Cassiopeia screwed up her nose in confusion, years of working with potions had honed her senses and she could swear on her life that the scent was vaguely reminiscent of lion tears.

(*)(*)(*)

"Have you had any word from Remy?" asked Victoire anxiously, peering at her husband from across her steaming cup of morning coffee. To say she was worried was an understatement; the silence she had been receiving from her son was quite unlike him. He may have been a rebellious person, his tattoos and piercings spoke for themselves, but Remy had always tended to write home at least once a week since his first year. However, since leaving on his world tour he had been strangely lax in communication. At first, both Teddy and herself has attributed this to the excitement of seeing exploring new places around the globe but such excuses soon became flimsy to her mind.

"Not recently," said Teddy, his voice tense as he contemplated the thought of his absent firstborn. Apart from one letter a week into his vacation in which Remy had stated that they should not worry and he would be home soon, he had received no word on his son's activities either. He had recently stooped to the level of contacting the Pierce family and inquiring as to whether they had received a letter from Demitria but they too were in the dark.

"Andy hasn't been the same since he left," she said, blinking and getting to her feet as the oven chimed, letting her know that the muffins she had baked for breakfast were done. Her youngest was very attached to Remy; his radio silence had affected her very deeply. Andy no longer sported her soft pink ponytail or eccentric personality, opting for an anaemic blonde that was as lacklustre as her new demeanour.

"I know," replied Teddy, "But you know Remy, most of the places he was planning on visiting aren't exactly owl friendly."

"He could still send a patronus," she argued, biting her lip as her fingertips burned slightly on the hot tray, "What if he's hurt or in trouble?"

"He's not the type to get into situations he can't get out off," pointed out Teddy, "Besides, he has Demi with him. You and I both know that she keeps him grounded." His voice gave credence to the fact that he wasn't quite sure of his statement and was mainly speaking in an attempt to placate his wife.

"Demitria and Remy have a way of finding trouble in places where none exists," she scowled at her husband, "Do you remember their fourth year when they went looking for the Chamber of Secrets and brought home a basilisk fang as a souvenir?"

Despite himself, Teddy chuckled at the memory. He had been the one who had had to go down and rescue the pair of them when they found themselves trapped inside the Chamber. Despite not being a parselmouth like most of the Pierce family were, the Chamber had yielded to his blasting curses quite easily enough.

"Stop laughing at me," muttered Victoire as she waved a spoon at him in a threatening manner, the affect of which was ruined by her vaguely amused pout.

"Give it a week, Vic," said Teddy, becoming serious again as he returned his thoughts to the problem at hand, "If we haven't heard from him by then, I'll call in a few favours with the Auror Department and see if they can track him down."

"After which you will hand me the coordinates so that I can apparate there and knock some sense into that boy," she said firmly and fixed Teddy with a glare that could curdle milk when he shook his head.

"Absolutely not, Edward Remus Lupin," she scowled, "You are not going to be getting him out of trouble this time. When I find him, I'm going to drag that boy back home by his ears and lock him in his room until he's fifty." Despite the fact that Remy was a grown man, he would always be her baby . . . even though judging by the sounds she had heard from his room in his later years at Hogwarts he had been quite capable of making his own babies. There were days she questioned where Remy had inherited his incompetency at Silencing Charms.

"I know you're worried, especially with the state of things at the hospit–"

"You do not see what I see, Teddy!" she cut him off, her eyes and nostrils flaring with her Veela fire, "Three aurors dead in one week, six injured, four Order agents in a critical condition and my baby is out there globe-trotting! I don't know what's going on with this Cult of Shadows nonsense but I refuse to see my son being carried home in a body-bag!" Her chest heaved as she finished, before she sank into her chair and began to sob, misty eyed sniffles that were punctuated by the patter of teardrops upon the table. Teddy stood and moved to her, wrapping his wife in his arms and murmuring words of comfort into her ears, even though he shared her concerns. Their thoughts may seem melodramatic and implausible considering Remy had probably just been too caught up in his foreign adventures to write home . . .

But as a father, it was his job to worry.

(*)(*)(*)

Lily eyed her son and boyfriend suspiciously as she peered at them over the kitchen counter, judging by the way their eyes kept flitting in all directions and their hushed voices they were obviously planning something. Her knees hurt from crouching on the floor for such a lengthy period of time but she was desperate to know what the two Malfoys in her life were plotting. She had learned very early on that Scorpius and Orion were as diabolical as sin when put together, though of the two it could be argued that Orion was much more nefarious.

Her eyebrows furrowed as she watched her son extend his hand, frowning when Scorpius scowled and stuffed a small pouch that jingled with the clinks of galleons into it. Orion winked at his father before grabbing his satchel of the couch and heading for the floo, grinning as he mouthed a few words before disappearing in a roar of jade flames.

"You can come out now, Lily," chuckled Scorpius, turning to face the kitchen. Lily cursed under her breath as she got to her feet, wondering how he had known she had been spying on them. Life with be much easier for her if she had accepted the Invisibility Cloak from her father but at that point in her life she had been loath to take any gifts from him.

Scorpius smirked at her incredulous expression and then gestured at the refrigerator behind her, causing Lily to grumble as she remembered that the appliance had a mirror finish.

"I wouldn't have to hide if you two didn't sneak around so often," she pointed out in annoyance when his smirk didn't drop, "Where did he go anyway?"

"Diagon Alley," replied Scorpius, "he said he'd be out for a few hours."

Lily frowned at his nonchalant response, she understood that Orion was growing up and didn't like to spend a lot of his time with his parents but given the present criminal situation, she would much rather he stay home. Then again, he would probably have several of his friends with him so at the very least he wasn't alone. She sighed, knowing that her real issue stemmed from the fact that she didn't want her baby boy growing up.

"Now don't panic," he said and she barely had time to react before he had whipped out his wand and muttered, "_Obscuro._" A navy blue blindfold strapped across her eyes and she squealed in alarm, her hands flying up to try and tear it away. An effort in futility and after five minutes she settled for shrieking at her boyfriend in the vain hopes of scaring him into releasing her from the spell.

She got no reaction save for the murmur of spells and the creak of shifting furniture. _What is that idiot doing?_

Finally at long last, she heard the much anticipated _finite incantantum_ and the blind fold disappeared. She opened her mouth to give her boyfriend a piece of his mind but her voice caught in her throat at the sight before her, her eyes widening in awe.

A warm fire burned in the fireplace, carried across the room by a sea of floating candles, all scented with cinnamon and lilies – which she found to be a little on the nose but the gesture was nice all the same – complete with several islands of rose petals dotting the room. A silky throw-over was tossed across the couch; the other furnishings save for the coffee table seemed to have been vanished. Two flutes of her favourite red wine stood upon the low table, so dark and rich that it appeared purple by the flickering firelight. A bottle of the fine substance stood beside the glassware, complete with a tray of chocolate-dipped strawberries and a side of cream.

But it was her boyfriend who really stole her heartbeat in that moment, on one knee before her holding a tiny box of ebony velvet, opened to reveal a ring of white gold, adorned with a single ruby. His eyebrow was raised in a wordless question, his smirk deeper than she had ever seen it though tinged through with a nervous anxiety she assumed that only proposing could bring.

She flushed furiously, knowing exactly how she must look in the midst of such finery, wearing a pair of sweatpants and one of his t-shirts with her hair as dishevelled as her brothers.

"Yes," she whispered and his smirk faded to be replaced by a jubilant grin as he stood and slipped the band across her finger. Then she gave a sharp cry of surprise as Scorpius lifted her into his arms and swept her in circles around the room, inadvertently leading to the two of them tearing of each other's clothes as they collapsed onto the sofa.

Time seemed to stand still as she felt her boyfriends – no, her fiancés – touch across her skin, his kisses like a trail of fire. They broke apart rarely, to sate their thirst with wine and indulge in the strawberries that drizzled molten chocolate across swollen lips and panting tongues.

"I love you," she murmured and her heart seemed to burst when he responded.

"I love you too, Lily Luna _Malfoy_."

(*)(*)(*)

A/N: Thoughts?

And a very big sorry for the long wait that led to the update.


	9. Chapter 8

**Call Me Home**

**Chapter Eight**

**Cry of the Wolf**

Draco drew deeply on his cigar, the rich taste scorching his throat and filling him with a light sense of relaxation. What with the recent developments concerning the Cult of Shadows, of which most details were being kept from the public, he was under severe pressure from the Auror Department, The Order and Ghost Division to expand their resources to fight this threat but the bottom line was that there were precious little to give. The second issue was that it was extremely difficult to find new recruits to fill their diminishing ranks, not many students who left Hogwarts were keen to join the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, opting instead for the more glamorous fields of employment.

The fact of the matter, and this was known only to the highest ranking officials of the Ministry and of course, Hermione, the Cult of Shadows were proving to be as dangerous as the Knights of Walpurgis had once been. And everyone knew what the Knights had turned into when the Ministry had failed to stop their movement.

The first Death Eaters.

Looking down at the thick portfolio of case files that Blaise Zabini had sent to him regarding the Cultists, he gave up the task of reading them at this late hour as a bad job and decided to retire to the Manor for the night – or morning as it were, judging by the positions of the hands on his clock.

The world spun as a wave of dizziness slammed into him when he rose from his desk. Blinking, he clutched his desk, wondering if this was related to the constant indigestion and stomach aches he had been experiencing of late. A sheen of sweat broke across his forehead and the back of his neck as he stumbled before regaining his balance. Then as his vision cleared he put it down to stress and lack of sleep before heading for the floo.

He would have to take an antacid when he got home in addition to his sleeping potion. He had been having trouble sleeping for the past few months, something he also attributed to the stress that accompanied the nature of his job, and antacids were a delightful muggle remedy that Hermione had gotten him. Since marrying her, he had discovered a whole onslaught of positive's about the muggle world that his upbringing hadn't allowed him to see until that point in his life. Antacids were but the tip of the iceberg, he much preferred the television and pizza that she had brought into his life.

The rush of jade flames faded as he stepped into his home, dusting the soot from his crumpled suit (he had long since decided that robes were not conducive to this day and age) with a wave of his wand and made his way to the kitchen where no doubt, Hermione would be waiting with a cup of tea and a plate of dinner. It was one of the little quirks that he loved about her, that no matter how late it was she would always wait up so that they could dine together before going to bed. Apparently it was something her mother had taught her, a couple that eats together will stay together. Draco saw the logic in that statement for Hermione was a terrific cook and he enjoyed making her blush when complimenting the cuisine.

"Hey, 'Mione," he said, a tired smile on his face as he pressed his lips to hers in a chaste kiss before he sank into the chair beside her with a loud groan of relief.

"Tough day?" she asked sympathetically, flicking her wand to summon two laden plates to the table. An aura of steam hazed around the surface of the food, still fresh and hot thanks to her knowledge of keep-fresh, warming and preserving charms. This was followed by two goblets of wine in lieu of their usual tea or pumpkin juice.

"I thought you may want to unwind," she pointed out when he quirked his eyebrow at the wine, noting the fine vintage and feeling a sneaking suspicion that his wife had helped herself to his father's personal wine cellar. It wasn't that he was opposed to enjoying the treasures his father had accumulated and squirreled away in life, it was the fact that every bottle in the aforementioned cellar was at least a hundred years old and aged to perfection.

It was also that each bottle could easily fetch enough galleons at auction to feed a family of four for a year.

"I may need something stronger in that case," he joked as he sipped the dark liquid, the tart crispness feeling quite refreshing to him. It was a heady brew and he realised his jest was in vain . . . his wife seemed to have brought out one of the most powerful vintages in the Manor.

Once their meal was eaten and the plates had been magically washed, Draco gave his wife a satisfied grin to which she rolled her eyes and declared that it was time for bed. The world spun again as Draco rose, a faint ache in his chest coming throbbing to the surface as indigestion began to rear its ugly head. He supposed it was only expected considering he was no longer as young as he had once been, though still middle aged by wizarding standards he was a man in his sixties and age did take its toll upon the body.

"Are you ok?" asked Hermione in concern, reaching out and placing a hand on his shoulder to help steady him.

"Fine," he mumbled, gritting his teeth as the pain hit its apex and then passed, "I just need an antacid."

"You're staying home tomorrow," she said sternly as she watched him gulp down two white pills. Her gaze intensified when he opened his mouth to protest and he instantly fell silent, she did have a point. He had been working too hard recently and it would be nice to spend a day at home with his wife and grandchildren. Preferably just his wife though. Despite being older than him by several months, Hermione was still a very attractive woman and their increasing age did little to slacken their sex life.

A half hour later he lay back in bed, smiling lightly as she curled herself against him and laid her head upon his chest. He extended his arm so that it looped around her and he kissed her lightly on the brow.

"Goodnight, 'Mione," he murmured sleepily, his eyes fluttering closed as she breathed a soft, "Sweet dreams," in response. She didn't need to tell him that because Draco found that he always slept soundly when he had Hermione at his side.

(*)(*)(*)

The forest was dark and foreboding, scraggly branches reaching up to claw at the sky, the ground thick with lichen and mildew, damp and reeking of mould. The very air seemed saturated with dark magical energy, cloying tendrils that held the land in a grip of decay and damnation. A ruined stronghold could be seen, tattered towers blackened with smoke and blight standing sentinel over the woods. James shivered despite himself as he came up beside the edges of the woods, according to their intelligence this was the headquarters of the Cult of Shadows.

He had to admit, the Cultists really had scored well on the creepiness factor of their base, the sheer desecration of the woods was enough to make most men turn tail and flee. Then there were the wards, powerful enchantments that kept them out and the darkness in. The only reason that he managed to stand his ground was the enchanted sapphire given to him by Blaise Zabini. The jewel had apparently been sent to Ghost Division along with the roll of film, a talisman that allowed one to walk within the sinister locale without succumbing to madness.

After several lengthy arguments, James had managed to convince Alison and his sons to move into Grimmauld Place till the situation had been dealt with. He held no love for his family home but at the same time he knew that apart from Hogwarts and Malfoy Manor, it had the most powerful magical defences in Britain. The Black Family had built their home to withstand a thousand years, none had ever breached the home without first being invited in. His mother on the other hand had firmly refused to return; the house held to many sorrowful memories for her and had eventually decided to return to the Burrow where the wards would keep her safe.

Beginning his trek into the wasteland, he tightened his grip on his wand handle. It was too dangerous to send in a team to rescue Katherine but one man, working alone, could potentially get in undetected and get her out of whatever prison she was now locked in. Blaise, Draco and Hugo had all deliberated what her chances of survival were, considering the nefarious reputation of the Cult and had eventually come to the conclusion that she they would probably keep her alive for interrogation purposes. Time was of the essence though, who knew how long she could hold up against whatever machinations they would use against her.

James had accepted this mission for two reasons, the first being that the Cult had put his wife and sons in the firing line and James brooked no threats to his family's safety without immediate retaliation. The second was that he felt he owed it to Katherine; she had been one of the few people who had always been a solid friend of Albus', even when his brother had been disowned by the majority of the family. Rescuing her would repay that debt.

Night was falling as he made camp for the night, hoping his basic security charms would see him safely to the morning. He dared not wield his most formidable spells here, not when the Cultists may be able to sense his magical signature and come investigating. James would stand no chance if it came to a frontal assault; his only hope of success lay in the fields of stealth and secrecy.

Absently, he wondered what had become of the two aurors that Hugo had sent into the Cult as a source of backup for Katherine. He doubted they were still alive and he thanked Merlin and God both that his nephew, Remy, was safely out of the country and not working the frontlines like the other aurors.

He didn't dare build a fire lest it give away his position, resigning himself to a dinner of nuts and dried fruit, the standard supplies that were given to agents leaving on a mission. It was a meal that could sustain your body and nutritional needs for a time, yet the taste was quite disgusting and James vowed to increase The Order's research budget into finding more delicious, non-magically preserved food provisions for his agents.

The attack came just as he closed his eyes to catch a few hours of sleep, the dark silhouettes of Shadows coming flitting out from between the trees with murder in their blood red eyes. There were at least two Cultists with them, which soon became one when James fired of his first killing curse, dropping his masked assailant in a flare of green light.

The Shadows, there were four, danced around him in the eerie light of the full moon as he backed up against the rough bark of a strangled oak, his expression grim. The Cultist seemed to survey him for a moment, a shit-eating grin etched upon his face as he realised whom it was that he had caught.

"James Potter," he cackled like a maniac, "What a surprise."

"I could say the same," said James, stalling for time as he tried to think up a plan that would enable him to survive this fight.

"The Dark Lady will be delighted to bathe in your blood," the Cultist replied, "She had not forgiven you for killing The Lord of Shadows."

_Albus? These bastards are murdering and raping in MY BROTHER'S NAME! _

Anger flared within him as he slashed his wand through the air, a jet of purple flame spiralling through the air and incinerating his for before he had the chance to react. The Shadows flew towards James, harsh claws slashing his skin in a quartet of places as their screeching song echoed through the still wood.

"Avada Kedavra! Avada Kedavra! Avada Kedavra," he repeated the killing curse, stunned by the latest revelation as the jets of light passed through their phantom forms like needles through water, leaving no visible harm behind. A spray of blood, his own, splashed across his lips as he felt a set of icy talons across his cheek. Copper flavoured his saliva as he bit down into his tongue to keep from screaming, for if he was to die then he would emulate his brother.

He would die with dignity.

Then his eyes widened as a silver knife came whipping through the air and buried itself in the back of the Shadow closest to him. It's scream was that of fingernails against a blackboard, magnified to the point that he clasped his hands to his ears to dull their ache as the creature sparked with spectral red light from its every orifice and then exploded into blackened vapour.

A hook nosed man arrived at the edge of the clearing just as a second knife went whipping through the air, catching a Shadow in the throat and killing it in the same torturous manner as the first. Then the remaining pair was on him. James' rescuer moved with a predatory grace as he dodged their moves, agilely ducking under their claws and spinning over their heads in aerial movements that James was sure no human could pull off.

A third knife, apparently the last remaining blade of the man hummed through the air as he brought it down in a lethal arc and buried it in the skull of the third Shadow. Then James was on his feet, and he threw the knife that lay at his feet, the blade that had dispatched the first of the Shadows, sending it whipping over his rescuers shoulder and taking out the last of their assailants.

"Who the hell are you?" panted James, shakily drawing his wand over his torn skin to repair the damage.

The stranger rolled his eyes and then screwed up his face in concentration and James took a step back as familiar features emerged from beneath the sallow skin and greasy hair.

"There had better be a good reason for why you just caused me to blow six months of being undercover, Uncle Jay," smirked Remy Lupin.

(*)(*)(*)

Hermione hummed a soft lilting melody under her breath as she returned the books she had spent the week reading to their shelves in the Malfoy library, smiling to herself at the peace that filled this room. It was her sanctuary in the Manor, for every descendant of the family knew not to mess with Grandma 'Mione's books on pain of being grounded for a month.

It made her smile to realise that she could no longer threaten people with the pain of death, especially considering that most of those she wagged her finger at these days were her grandchildren.

A warm wind trailed through the room, drawing her away from her amusement as she frowned at the strange feeling that it brought with it. There was no doubt that the breeze was magical in nature but something about it was reassuring and reminded her of the comfort of family. It reminded her of a purer form of the elemental manipulation she had witnessed in Albus' Shadows, a memory which replaced her warmth with slivers of ice.

A loud thump drew her attention and she turned, her hand flying to her wand before she breathed a sigh of relief as she noticed that the sound had been caused by a falling book. Then she frowned, the book was covered in dust and had obviously fallen from one of the highest shelves that were only accessible by ladder, which led her to question what had disturbed it from its resting place? Cautiously she moved forward and picked it up, blowing to remove the thick film of dust before laying it on one of the nearby reading tables and taking a seat to study it.

_Au-dela du Voile_

_Cassandra Malfoy_

_Fevrier 1679_

She let out a low groan as she surveyed the title page; it was evident that the book was written in French and despite the many times she had visited the country with her parents in her youth, she wasn't very fluent in the language. The fact that the book was written several centuries prior to her reading it meant that the language may have changed as well, so it was unlikely that a dictionary with be of much assistance either. Why did her husband's family have to be descended from the French? It was the one topic that always vexed her that the language which he could speak so fluently was so difficult for her.

Hermione recoiled when the breath of wind returned and before her eyes, the book slid open, its pages whirring till finally falling still upon a certain page. She instantly tensed upon seeing the illustration, a rocky archway filled with gossamer mist. It was so familiar and yet so alien, a reminder of her first real battle with the Death-Eaters at the Department of Mysteries.

Groaning again at the finely scrawled lines of French, she tried to discern any visible words. _Mort _seemed to be written quite often and she was sure that it translated to _death_ in English. _Esprit_ meant either _soul_ or _spirit_ and she was certain that the word _Ombre _meant _Shadow_.

Resolving to ask Draco for help as soon as he returned home that night, Hermione grabbed the strange book and hurried back to the living room to check on her granddaughters. However, she made sure to summon a French dictionary from the shelves before leaving.

Because after all, when had she ever had to run to somebody else when it came to research?

(*)(*)(*)

_**A/N: Thoughts**_


	10. Chapter 9

**Call Me Home**

**Chapter Nine**

**Beyond the Veil**

(*)(*)(*)

"Where did you get this book, 'Mione?" asked Draco in a terse voice, his eyes widened in disbelief upon reading the front cover.

"The library," she shrugged, wondering why he seemed so perturbed. It was just a book, after all. That is, so long as one discounted the mystical manner in which it had appeared to her.

"This is a lost book;" he said gruffly, "Every copy of Cassandra's work was thought to have been destroyed during the Renaissance."

"Cassandra Malfoy is a cautionary tale for our family, warning us of the dangers of wedding brother to sister. The practice was all too common in that age . . . but she was the last Malfoy born of two siblings," he spoke slowly, as if weighing his words. He knew his wife's opinion of his ancestors was very low and he didn't want to give her more cause to find them distasteful.

"She was insane," he continued when she looked at him expectantly, biting his lip as she sucked in a breath, "She spent her entire life claiming to be able to see beyond the Veil of death."

"And yet your family stilled married their children off to their cousins for the next few hundred years?" Hermione scoffed in disgust. Even in the muggle world, it was known for incestuous couplings to play havoc on the genetic makeup of their offspring and cause them no end of physical and mental disabilities.

"Don't turn up your nose at me," he threw up his hands in surrender, "I'm married to a muggle-born."

"I know, I know," sighed the aforementioned muggle-born, "It's just that I can't believe people actually did things like that."

"That was a long time ago, 'Mione," he said as he wrapped his arms around her, "Now do you want me to read these pages to you or what?"

Hermione grumbled slightly under her breath, her efforts with the dictionary had been slow and had yielded little results. Considering the way in which languages adapted over the years, she knew that only a person fluent in the tongue could be able to discern what secrets the book held.

So for once she had been forced to ask for help, something she had never done in the field of research or reading.

Draco chuckled lightly before picking up the tome and began reading, voice quickly becoming serious as he progressed through the information written within.

_Our bodies are but our vessels and when they inevitably die our soul is set free upon the world. _

_The soul is a beautiful and powerful thing, it can withstand tremendous torture without breaking but it is also malleable and easily manipulated by the primordial forces that exist in our world. In their natural state a soul will reside in a state of perpetual bliss within that strange realm which exists beyond the Veil. _

_However, there are times when souls are called or sent back to earth to serve a new purpose. Souls that are Shadows, dark and malign, easily controlled by the wizard or witch who has summoned them. In most cases, the Shadow is then bound to the Summoner lest it cause great destruction upon the world of men._

_A Shadow takes on the form that their body was at just before their time of death. Whilst physical contact with a Shadow is impossible, it should be noted that Shadows can cause physical injury to their victims if they are well fed on blood and darkness. _

_Souls that are sent back to the world of the living are known as Daemons or Guardian Spirits. It is unclear as to what divine force is at work that sends these Souls back to earth but it should also be noted that there have been recorded instances in which a Daemon has returned of their own free will to watch over those they love. _

_A Daemon takes on the form at which their body was or with have been at its most vital. This causes many Daemons to appear as teenagers or adolescents. A man who dies at age sixty may have his Daemon appear as he did when he was still twenty and the same can be said of a child who died young. _

_Daemons and Shadows are both extremely rare phenomenons in our world, the former of which is decidedly rarer still as whatever Higher Powers exist do not often seem to meddle in the affairs of man. Shadows however, have cropped up at sides of every major Dark Wizard in history. . ._

"The next few pages are missing," muttered Draco as he turned the page, grimly noting the jutted tufts of paper that indicated several pages had been torn out. Judging by the frayed edges of those pages and the age spots that dotted them, they had been torn out decades prior to this day.

"What does this mean?" asked Hermione and for the first time in a long time, there was a trace of fear in her voice.

"I don't know," replied Draco, "I don't know."

(*)(*)(*)

Scorpius frowned at the documents on his desk, nibbling slowly at his lip as he contemplated the consequences of such action. The thick stack of paperwork leered at him mockingly, there were terms in the fine-print that he had not heard in years, not since Albus had died.

When Albus had died, the main fighting power of the Outcasts had gone down with him. The strength of Wizarding Britain now stemmed solely from the Auror Department, the Order and Ghost Division whilst the Outcasts no longer maintained their own private army. It had been a well thought out decision made by himself, Cassiopeia, Draco and James Potter. They needed to rebuild a democratic and ordered world, not a dictatorship.

Of course, many had argued that with the Malfoy family still controlling almost every aspect of the Wizarding World in some way or other that they didn't need a private army. Scorpius and Draco had firmly rebutted these accusations and now, nearly nine years after the Cataclysm it was obvious to the world that they had made a change for the better.

Yet now, his father and brother had both requested he begin diverting a portion of the company's formidable resources into gathering an army. Neither seemed willing to give him a reason as to why he had to take such a drastic course of action, both spouting governmental jargon that basically stated to him that the situation was not to be made public knowledge.

As if he counted as part of the general public. He was the CEO of Malfoy Holdings and was arguably one of the most powerful men in Europe, if they needed him to build them an army they had better tell him why.

He stared at the pile of papers before him, all magically sealed in their folders saved for the one on top, a statement that functioned in much the same way as a Tongue-Tying Curse. Should he sign, with his magical signature of course, then he would never be able to speak off what he had read unless the person he was speaking to had signed the same papers. Ordinarily he would have signed in a heartbeat, for he generally worked on some extremely controversial projects in conjunction with the Ministry but this time . . .

The files were all stamped with the crest of Ghost Division and he knew enough of that highly secretive organisation to know that their cases did not make for easy reading. They handled the most controversial and horrific crimes that were known to the Wizarding World and were never shy about the details of their activities amongst those who knew of their existence. Which meant that whatever it was that they were so intent on guarding was something that should never see the light of day.

Biting his lip, he drew his wand and used it to scrawl his signature across the page before pushing it aside and opening the first file. Scorpius blanched as he scanned through the finely written notes, revulsion filling his gut. Turning the page over, he gagged at the first set of pictures that fell out of the file.

He could taste bile in his throat as he hurriedly shut the file.

Children . . . they were children . . . skinned alive and kept alive by magic so as to mentally torture their parents. Their innocent, pain filled, skinless expressions were going to stay etched upon his mind till the day he died.

His thoughts flew to his own son, Orion, who had just celebrated his fourteenth birthday. For the briefest second he pictured that it was Ryan who had been kept alive in such horrible agony to spite Lily and himself.

This time he did vomit, barely making it to the trashcan on the side of his desk. When he finally rose and returned to his desk, his breath sour, his face and hair slick with sweat, he delved into his uppermost drawer and pulled out the request his father had sent him.

He signed it without question. Let the public think what they wanted to, if his father needed an army to help the Department of Law Enforcement to capture people like this then he would give them their army.

After all, he had a fiancé and son to protect.

(*)(*)(*)

Cassiopeia knelt beside the white marble headstones, caressing the smooth stone with the back of her hand as tears filled her eyes. The graves were beautiful, blossoming flowers growing from the eroded mounds of earth, their fragrant scent filling the air.

"I'm sorry for not visiting as much as I used to," she murmured as she ran her fingers across the engraving.

_Leo Albus Potter_

Her son. Her eldest child. The boy she had never known save for the kicks within her womb.

A light breeze filled the private graveyard, rustling the grass as it blew past the names of her family. Crystalline drops spilled across the petals as she wept, the sadness and anguish of her son's passing slamming into her like a storm of knives. Just as it always did when she came here, to this place where lay buried her husband and son.

"Cassie," his voice just made her cry that much harder, a distant echo of the Albus she had known and loved as his Shadow knelt beside her and slung an icy arm around her shoulders. She could feel his frigid presence, she could see his arm around her and yet she could not physically feel his touch. She couldn't tangibly hold the man she loved, the man beside her who had been dead for nearly nine years.

"Why couldn't we have just been happy?" she asked him, turning her head so it seemed to lay on his shoulder in a perverse imitation of the times she had nestled her face within the crook of his neck. Her tears slipped through his incandescent form, freezing into shards of ice before shattering upon the ground.

"Don't . . . know," he admitted, wishing with all his heart that he could run his hands through her hair as he used to whenever he needed to reassure her of anything.

"Scorpius and Lily are getting married," she told him after a while, "I want to be happy for them and I am but all I can think of is that how is it that they get their happy ending and we didn't."

"Were . . . happy . . . You . . . still . . . can," he murmured into her ear, causing her to wince at the sliver of cold that stabbed into her temple.

"Not without you," she replied immediately. She couldn't be happy without Albus; she couldn't love anyone else as much as she had loved him. She had given him her heart and when he had died so had a large part of her own. People liked to tell her that time healed all wounds, that there would come a day when she would be able to move on. She laughed at the naivety of those people; they spoke from textbooks without knowing true loss. Time just sharpened the blade of losing those you loved, you could learn to handle the pain but it would never let you go.

Replacing Albus would be like tearing out her eyes, casting them into the ocean and then pretending she could still see.

She had learned the hard way that love was as much a blessing as it was a curse. It held the power to create something so beautiful that angels may bleed in envy to look upon it, but at the same time it could destroy a person so utterly in its absence that the kiss of the Dementors was preferable. Without Aurora, she would have ceased to exist long ago, her daughter was all that she kept her grounded to the world of the living.

"Mummy! Daddy!" the girl in question came running up to them, twin ponytails streaming behind her as she sprinted across the grounds.

"Can we play?" she asked, out of breath when she finally reached them and Cassiopeia felt a familiar pang in her heart when she saw those emerald eyes glistening in the sunlight.

"Play," agreed Albus after receiving a nod from his wife in permission, rising and flitting after the little girl as she led him towards the rose gardens. As she left she turned and waved, which Cassiopeia felt strange since she had already spoken to her. Her eyes screwed up in curiosity when she waved back, it seemed as though Aurora was looking at someone else entirely.

As she watched her daughter dance in circles around the circles of her father's Shadow, she felt her heart break just a little.

Then again, for her heart to break it would have to be whole to begin with. And her heart hadn't been whole since the day her son died.

(*)(*)(*)

"You've been here undercover . . . for six months?" asked James, his eyes hardening as he regarded his rebellious nephew. He was furious at the news, more so because he had been led to believe that the metamorphmagus was on an extended leave of absence whilst touring the world. Remy had always been a thrill seeker but this wasn't borrowing one of his old professional racing brooms and going for a joyride, this was infiltrating the most nefarious criminal organisation their world had known since the defeat of the Death Eaters.

"How about you scold me after we rescue Kat?" asked Remy with a mischievous grin, "Demitria knows where she's being held."

"They sent in two teenagers!" James all but yelled, his anger overriding his sense of self-preservation. The two men were on the outskirts of the ruined stronghold, concealed behind a crumbling wall as they planned how best to get in and out without alerting the Cultists to their presence. An hour previously, they had witnessed several large groups enter the forest. It was evident that the alarm had been raised and that they were now being sought out in earnest.

"I can change my appearance at will, Uncle James," admonished Remy, "Who else in the entire Department of Magical Law Enforcement has my abilities as a spy?"

"Maybe somebody with actual experience as a spy?" shot back James waspishly. He had intended this to be a clear cut rescue mission but it was fast dissolving into a nightmare. Katherine Avery has already ceased to be his priority, he would do all he could to get her to safety but getting Remy home was now his foremost concern.

"They sent one in, remember? She's been stuck in a dungeon for a fortnight," Remy scowled at his uncle's apparent lack of faith in his abilities. The fact remained that he was not a little kid anymore and he had a veritable armoury of weapons that his birth alone had provided. He had the charm and grace of a Veela, the powers of a Metamorphmagus, the ingenuity of a Marauder and the strength of a werewolf. He had been the best man for the job and personal connections aside, James had to grudgingly admit it.

"Fine!" grumbled James, "But when we get home I'm going to drag you back to your mother by your ears." He smirked in satisfaction as Remy blanched; the threat of Victoire Lupin had always been a good way to keep him in check.

Suddenly, Remy cocked his head to the side in alarm before turning back to his uncle with a look of urgency.

"Demi found out which cell they're holding Kat in," he said, drawing his wand from the holster he wore at his waist and unsheathing a dagger with his other hand. The finely wrought blade shone like molten silver in the growing twilight. James had already raised the question as to how Remy's knives could kill Shadows when a killing curse could not. The response had been a shrugged, "Goblin-made."

James had rolled his eyes at this because of course his nephew would treat something as significant as discovering one of the only ways to kill a Shadow as nonchalantly as he had. He didn't even bother asking how Remy knew that Demitria had found Katherine, having watched the boy grow up he was no stranger to the enhanced senses of hearing, smell and sight that was awarded to those with werewolf blood.

"We can't just go barging in," said James as he drew his own knife, the one he had picked up from the forest floor and used to kill the Shadow earlier that day.

"Watch me," snapped Remy as he rose to his feet and vaulted over the low wall they had been using as cover. James cussed under his breath and followed, just in time to see his nephew approach the guard at the door and slit his throat. Spurts of sticky red stained the boy's neon-green hair as he turned away and kicked open the door.

"You're going to bring them all down on us," pointed out James as he came entered the fort.

"The bulk of their forces are out there looking for us," said Remy, "We move quickly and we can be out of here before they get back."

James nodded, seeing the reasoning behind the statement and trusting in the knowledge his nephew had no doubt acquired over the period in which he was operating within the Cultists' ranks. He took off after him, pausing only every so often to dispatch of a lone guard of wandering Shadow. When they finally reached the stairs that seemed to lead underground, both were drenched in blood and the icy vapour that erupted from Shadows when they perished. As much as he could, James kept his eyes focused on the corridors ahead to avoid seeing the horrific decor. The long carpet they were walking on for instance which he had first thought of as tooled leather had long since been pointed out to, in actuality, be comprised of human skin.

He didn't even want to consider the ghastly-white fountains which sprayed scarlet streams. It was just water, he would tell himself; it was just water that looked red in the dimness of the halls. Again, Remy had corrected him in saying that there were huge reservoirs in the cellars that constantly fed the fountains with the blood of virgins.

It was a gruesome place, every brick of which filled him with the yearning desire to tear down and obliterate. But from what Remy had told him, much of the fort was below-ground and had several other entrances and exits, as well as other minor keeps dotted throughout Britain. By that logic, he knew that it was better this base remain active in plain sight till they could hunt down the others.

"Weapons ready," breathed Remy, "the lower levels are where the Shadows lie." A creeping sense of dread began trickling down James' spine as he took in his nephew's words, grimly remembering the last time he had seen Shadows gathering in force . . . the day Albus had died.

Despite his misgivings, he followed Remy down the roughly hewn stairs. His breath began to fog as the temperature started to drop, the advent of Shadows freezing the air as the flickering torchlight began to dim.

And into the darkness, did they descend.

(*)(*)(*)

Demitria groaned as she slid to the ground, her back aching from the force of being thrown back into the wall. Her wand clattered across the room, having flown from her flimsy grip when the knockback jinx hit her in the abdomen. Vaguely, she was aware of blood trickling down the side of her face.

She was a formidable fighter but she was outnumbered, despite having killed two of her opponents there were still three surrounding her and all were still fresh were she was weary.

_Trust a Potter to kill us all._

This was all Director Potter's fault. If he hadn't shown up in the woods the previous evening then Remy would never have left the stronghold to go to his rescue, thus blowing both their covers. Despite him being the only one to have defied them and showed his true colours, the Cultists were not stupid. By association and sleeping arrangements, it was common knowledge that Remy and herself were together and thus, if he was an Auror, it would easily be inferred that so was she.

It had forced them to speed up their plans. They had been plotting the best way of getting Katherine Avery and themselves out of this disgusting hellhole ever since the senior agent had been captured and they had a foolproof plan.

But of course, the paper pushers in the MLE Head Office has gotten their panties in a bunch and royally screwed things up.

She staggered to her feet, spitting a globule of blood onto the floor as she drew her knife and took up a defensive stance. Against three Cultists armed with wands, a blade would be of little use but it was still better than nothing. At the very least, she could take one more of these bastards screaming down to hell with her.

"Get the fuck away from her," bellowed a familiar voice and her heart brightened instantly, revelling in the jet of green light which whipped through the air, catching the trio by surprise and felling one of them. She spun, taking advantage of their shock and buried her knife in the nearest Cultist's throat in a scarlet spray. By the time she had whirled to face her last foe, he was sprawled across the ground, his body slashed by an invisible sword.

_Sectumsempra_, she noted, her eyes widening as she took in the caster of the curse, _who knew the Director had it in him._

"You okay, Demitria?" asked Remy, coming up beside her and laying a hand on her shoulder.

"Don't. Call. Me. Demitria!" she scowled, a soft smile breaking across her face as she failed to keep her anger at the forefront of her mind. It was always the case with Remy, he could annoy her to no end and she still wouldn't have a shot in hell at staying mad at him.

"She's fine," he chuckled when Potter looked at them in concern, "She's fine." Demi frowned at him, the relief in his voice was tinged with a lot more than the usual cheeky affectionate shared between them. She nodded, still unsure as to why he seemed so out of character when suddenly it clicked.

_I'm the one who's too scared to love. He just hides the fact because he cares too much to push me._

"Kat is in the third cell," Demi said in a thick voice, causing Remy to stare at her quite sharply. It didn't matter now, what mattered was that they get out of here. There would be time for sappy lovey-dovey confessions later, "Let's go," she continued, picking up her wand and proceeding to blast open the cell door.

(*)(*)(*)

A loud crash wakes her, her eyes cracking open to reveal a blurry world of dust, debris and darkness. Three silhouettes begin to approach, incandescent yet familiar and she felt a sense of hope begin to burgeon in her chest as she recognized the foremost of who she now knew where her rescuers.

His eyes widened in shock, as if not able to connect the girl who had been one of his brother's best friends with the emaciated woman hanging before him, chained to the wall with wrists crusted with dried blood. Her eyelids were heavy with fatigue, her skin so badly bruised and scarred that her original complexion has long since been lost between clouded blemishes of red, pink, purple and blue. She had always been proud of her pixie cut, now a grimy tangle of sweat soaked locks. Her nails, often so perfectly manicured with black varnish, are cracked as the palms of her hand and soles of her bare feet.

Kat forced a pained smile at him, amused at his look of horror as he took in her broken grin, shattered teeth as visible as the raw gums were others had been yanked out.

"About damn time," she whispered, groaning as his unlocking charm forced open her manacles.

(*)(*)(*)

"How the hell are we going to get out of here?" yelled James, ducking as low as he could without dropping Kat as a slew of green light flew over his head.

"There's an old apparition point just ahead," gasped Remy, nursing a deep cut on his left side as he ran, "First turn on your left."

The curses kept flying as the Cultists tore after them, black robes flapping like the wings of a hundred bats as they hurled curses. They were lucky in that none of the Shadows had joined in the chase, content to allow their human allies to capture their prisoners.

"Crucio," shrieked the woman in the lead, a sensual figure with the face of a pug. A tortured keening filled the passageway as the curse caught Demitria in the back, knocking her to the ground. Remy whirled, a stinging hex flying from his wand and catching the pug-lady Parkinson in her left eye. Her cruciatus was lifted as she fell to her knees, clutching at her imploded eye as agony overtook her.

James spun in alarm, he was ahead of Remy and Demitria by half-a-dozen metres or so and the Cultists were almost upon them. There was no choice left but to fight even though they were hopelessly outnumbered and outgunned.

He moved to hurry forward but froze when he saw Remy aim his wand at him instead of the enemy.

"Go," said the young metamorphmagus and James felt comprehension dawn on him, "GO!"

"Don't be a fool," he winced as he saw Demitria rise to her feet shakily and erect a shield charm across to deflect the oncoming curses.

"I promised I'd get you all out," continued James, when neither of the younger aurors moved. The Cultists were even closer now and even if they took off running as fast as they could, James doubted they would all be able to cover the distance to the apparition point without having to turn and fight. Nevertheless, he was not leaving his nephew here to die.

"You tried," grinned Remy in a perverse imitation of his usual mischievous grin, "Bombarda Maxima!" His blasting curse tore from his wand with a thunderous roar and slammed into the rocky ceiling above them. The entire corridor quavered and shook before a thousand tons of rock came crashing down between them.

James let out a cry of anguish as his nephew disappeared from sight, trapped on the other side of the cave-in with the Cultists. For a brief moment, he entertained trying to curse his way through the rubble but Kat was already fading fast.

Grimly, he turned away and headed for the apparition point.

There was no going back now.


	11. Chapter 10

**Call Me Home**

**Chapter Ten**

**Treason**

Lily sighed as she put down the wedding brochures; internally bemoaning the amount of effort went into planning a ceremony. It was enough to make her want to just elope. Of course, doing so would cause both Ginny and Astoria to have aneurisms.

It was helpful that Scorpius and herself had used the recent state of events to postpone their wedding. They really wanted to enjoy engaged life for a while before taking the next big step, Merlin knew that they had missed out on each other long enough and it was only natural to her that they would both want to savour each part of their romance.

There was also the fact that she refused to get married whilst her nephew was being held captive. It was the hope she clung too, that fragile strand of belief that Remy was imprisoned because the alternative was too much to contemplate. She had been to visit Teddy and Victoire that morning and they had both been wrecks. Teddy had taken an extended leave from his post at Hogwarts as soon as he had heard the news and Victoire was on a forced leave of absence from the hospital after breaking down and assaulting Hugo Malfoy on the premises.

Lily would have chuckled at that but now was not the time for laughter. All she could think off when she saw Victoire that morning was what she would be like if Orion was the one in mortal peril.

The thought was too horrible to contemplate and she hurriedly shoved it from her mind and turned her attention back to the wedding. She already had her dress and the decor picked out and Draco had insisted they wed on the grounds of Malfoy Manor. She had consented to this only to find herself arguing with both her fiancé and his father when they requested that she wear the Malfoy bridal jewels on her wedding day. Whilst she thought the jewellery was gorgeous she had pointed out that she didn't really feel comfortable wearing them.

Draco had pointed out that every Malfoy bride had worn them for centuries. She had countered by stating that she was from this century and she had then also rejected her mother's offer to wear her wedding set. She really didn't want anything associated with her father to be present at her wedding.

Unbeknownst to everyone but herself, she already had the perfect set of jewels for her special day.

Her mind began wandering as she lazed back on her couch, yawning loudly as she picked up the next catering menu to skim through the list. It was all just so much work and Scorpius wasn't much help considering the nature of his job and the current dark atmosphere hovering over both families. He was also a man and sadly, men were completely useless at wedding planning.

At least Scorpius had already managed to sort out his best man and groomsmen. Naturally he had named Delphin, Hugo and a newly returned Xavier as his groomsmen. What had come as a surprise was his choice of having Orion as his best man. Astoria had protested, saying it was highly unorthodox but then again, when had Scorpius and Lily's relationship ever been considered orthodox in the first place?

She had kindly asked Alison to stand in as her matron-of-honour and she didn't have any other bridesmaids. She knew Alison the longest of any of her sister-in-laws and was closest to her. For a brief drunken period she had entertained the notion of asking Louis to be her matron-of-honour but he had just raised his eyebrow and stated that whilst he did like men, he also had external plumbing.

It wasn't her fault that she had no really close female friends to step in and take on the role. It wasn't her fault that other than Victoire and Dominique, the latter of whom was slowly alienating herself from the magical world, she really didn't see eye to eye with any of her female cousins. She had cringed when her mother had suggested her cousin, Roxanne, because not only had Roxanne Weasley slept with a large percentile of the guest list during her time at Hogwarts, she had also had a brief one night stand with the groom.

Therefore, Roxanne Weasley was definitely not going to be standing on that alter. She could have a seat near the back . . . but only because Uncle George, Lily's favourite uncle, was Roxanne's father.

Lily sighed, her head throbbing with the beginnings of a headache. It was all this wedding crap, her brain was so fuzzy that it was just latching onto thoughts and running with them, filling her mind with an annoying internal monologue of random thoughts.

_I really should just elope._

(*)(*)(*)

Hugo Malfoy strode into the specialist MLE ward of St. Mungo's with a grim look on his face, his eyes softening slightly at the sight of Katherine Avery shivering upon the soft linen of her bed. Her eyes were closed, evidence that led him to believe she was asleep and in the grips of a nightmare, something he could well understand considering what she had been through.

Whilst the healers assigned to her case had been reluctant to divulge the details concerning her condition to him, they had found themselves agreeing with his point of view quite quickly once he reminded them that not only was he the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, but that his wife was also the Deputy Head Healer of St. Mungo's.

The poor healer he had been questioning had almost broken down in tears by the time he was done but he wasn't going to waste time thinking about such trivialities. Katherine was more than one of his best agents, she was also a friend.

Worse still, he couldn't help but notice that Demitria Pierce and Remy Lupin had not returned from the mission with Kat and James. He had not seen the eldest Potter yet but he dreaded the inevitable confrontation, if there was one thing he remembered from his early years living as a Weasley, he knew how prickly the Weasleys became where family was concerned.

On the other hand he would rather face a furious James Sirius Potter than have to deal with Victoire Gabriella Lupin. Though she didn't carry the werewolf gene like the rest of her immediate family, there was no denying that she would rip him limb from limb without even blinking if she heard her son was in grave danger because he had authorised a mission.

But the fact remained that Remy and Demitria were both aurors who had accepted the mission. Hell, Remy had volunteered to go in after pointing out that his abilities would be invaluable for a spy. Kingsley had been against the idea but his hands were tied, familial connections or no familial connections, they were the MLE and their duty was to protect those they loved and the general public at all costs.

The door swung open behind him and Hugo took a step back in surprise, stunned by the look of anger on one of his best friend's faces. He was slender and wiry as ever, his sable hair falling in waves around an extremely haggard face but his eyes glinted with fury.

Hugo could understand his anger as he knew he would be feeling much the same way if it was Francesca who had been savagely tortured for two weeks.

"Xavier, I wasn't aware you were back in Britain," said Hugo cautiously.

"I got an owl from Draco this morning," Xavier Avery spoke through gritted teeth, "And I arrive here to find that my wife has been in here for the past five days . . . When were you going to inform me, Malfoy?"

"With her position compromised there was no way on knowing whether bringing you and the boys home would put you all at risk," shot back Hugo. Xavier was entitled to be livid at him but he worked in Magical Experimentation not Law Enforcement. He didn't understand that risks had to be carefully weighed in the field his wife had chosen before decisions could be made.

"She was supposed to have been undercover for two months," snapped Xavier, "You had her in that shithole for two fucking years!" The older man wiped a hand over his eyes and Hugo started, he had not realised that Xavier was crying.

"They boys haven't seen their mother in two years," he continued, "I spent every day for two years worried that my wife was being buried in an unmarked grave. You have no idea what that's like so don't you dare lecture me about risks. I was the one who had to take my boys into hiding whilst my wife risked her life, so don't you dare fucking give me your bullshit till you've walked in my shoes!"

Hugo was taken aback by the emotion in his usually cynical friend's words but he found himself understanding where the other man was coming from. It was the reason so many of Ghost Divisions' agents opted not to have families. The emotional strain was too much for their loved ones to have to bear. He thought of Lexi and what would he be going through if it was Fran lying in that bed, her body and mind tortured to the brink of insanity. If their roles were reversed, he may well have already launched himself on Xavier and pummelled him within an inch of his life.

"I'm sorry, Xav," he whispered, clapping a hand on his friend's shoulder and feeling relieved that Xavier didn't shake it off.

Xavier nodded imperceptibly before going to pull up a chair beside the bed, clasping his hands around that of his wife's and whispering soft words that only she would be able to hear.

Hugo found a faint smile creasing his lips as even in her sleep; she seemed to respond and stopped shivering and muttering in her sleep. Love shone bright and strong between the couple and Hugo felt a strong sense that he was intruding on something private. Hurriedly he left the room.

He gulped upon stepping into the hallway, his first sight being Victoire Lupin storming towards him with a look of murder in her eyes. Violent sparks of red and gold flashed from the tip of her wand and her mouth was screwed into an intense snarl, hair crackling with her Veela temperament. It would seem she had just found out about her son.

In that moment, Hugo thanked Merlin that his wife was a professional healer.

(*)(*)(*)

Remy groaned as he came to, blinking to clear his head as he took in the dank cell he had been tossed into. Dully, he could hear Demitria stirring beside him, her sharp intakes of breath causing him to wince at the pain she must no doubt be failing.

True to form, the pair had not come quietly, rather they had held of the Cultists with wand and knife for as long as they could, and when they were disarmed they fought with tooth and nail. Remy now regretted their brashness as he took stock of their condition, Demitria could barely stand on her own and whilst he was faring better, he still sported half a dozen deep gashes across his body, some of which were still sluggishly oozing red.

"You ok, Demi?" he asked, wincing as the torn skin of his knuckles scraped across the dirt strewn over the damp floor.

"I'm fine," she coughed, deep wracking explosions of air that seemed to quake through her entire body.

"You don't sound fine," groaned Remy as he leaned back against the wall and began to examine his wounds. His mother was one of the best healers in the country and he had learned quite a bit from her over the years. From what he could tell, Demitria had possibly broken a rib or worse still, punctured a lung.

"I'm fine," she repeated, her voice slightly stronger this time as she dragged herself towards him, gritting her teeth as her broken ankles was twisted by her movements. She bit her lip to stifle a shriek of pain but Remy noticed it. Without thinking, he was on his feet and moving towards her, lifting her into his arms despite the protests of his entire body. Ignoring her raspy arguments to put her down, he carried her to the wall and set her down before collapsing beside her, exhausted from the ordeal.

"I could have made it," she said softly, too touched by his thoughtfulness to be angry at him.

"I know," he replied with an echo of his trademark grin, "You're stubborn that way."

"Remy . . . I," she began but fell silent, placing a hand on her hip and gritting her teeth at the gravelly feeling beneath her skin, evidence that her bone had chipped in several places.

"I . . ." she tried again, cursing herself for not being Gryffindor enough to confess her feelings to him because something told her they weren't going to be leaving this dungeon alive.

But why was this so difficult to confess that she loved someone? Was it because she had never thought that love could exist, that she would never be deserving of it?

She had viewed it as an abstract concept all her life, watching her parents cheat on each other time and time again. She had watched her father slap her mother across the face and then watched her mother slam a vase over his head in return. Their dysfunctional relationship had made her cold and distant, left her with no means to seek comfort and a sense of mutual caring in the world.

This had changed in her third year. The year she had made friends with Remy, the year she had finally realised that she didn't have to live life by herself and that there were people who truly and genuinely cared for each other. Remy had been her first everything. He had been her first friend, her first kiss when they had both been standing too close to each other on New Year's Eve, the first man she had seen naked – when she had accidently walked in on him in the prefects bath – her first lover when they had fallen drunkenly into bed that night in sixth year. Remy was as much a part of her as were her own limbs.

She loved him; she knew she did, so why couldn't she just say it out loud?

"Remy," she said quietly, finally, and he cocked his head to the side to look at her, "Thank you for being my friend." His grin came back in full force, though laced with a hint of sadness as he leaned in and pressed his bruised, bloodied, split lips to hers.

"I love you too, Demitria," he murmured, "You don't have to say it, I know it and that's what matters in the end."

(*)(*)(*)

"There are traitors in the MLE," whispered Kat, taking harsh breaths as her pain potion wore off. She knew that it was time for her next dose but she was taking advantage of her brief moment of lucidity to warn James and Hugo of what she had discovered moments before being captured.

"Who?" exclaimed James, as pieces of the complex jigsaw began falling into place. The Cultists had seemed to have a deep knowledge into their activities and families, the pictures had told him that much but he had been hesitant to voice his opinions that they had a mole. It was also deeply worrying that he had been discovered so easily when he infiltrated the woods guarding their stronghold in the first place as he hadn't tripped any wards of cast any discernible spells to give away his position.

Even Kat being compromised had raised several red flags in his mind. Her cover had been deep and she hadn't been with her family in two years, the pictures of the Avery family suddenly seemed highly suspect to have been included in the roll of film she had recovered and sent to them before being captured.

With a dawning sense of dread he realised that they had all of them been duped and that somebody had slipped those particular images into the other photos. There was no other explanation.

The MLE was compromised.

The only thing that they hadn't seemed to have known was that Remy and Demitria had been undercover as well and he put that down to the high amount of secrecy concerning their mission and the Unbreakable Vows taken by those who had been in the know to not speak of it except with those who also knew.

"I'll authorise Ghost Division to take out the moles immediately," said Hugo with a hard look in his eyes. He hated being played for a fool and he hated that he seemed to have been manipulated into putting four of his subordinates at risk. Kat and James had barely survived, the former had been tortured to breaking point and his two youngest aurors were probably already dead.

"That's the problem," croaked Kat as black spots began popping across her vision, her pain mounting, "Ghost Division is the Cult of Shadows. . ."

(*)(*)(*)

**A/N: Thoughts? Also the sequence of events in this chapter does not occur chronologically meaning that Lily's scene takes place simultaneously with the closing scene. **


	12. Chapter 11

**Call Me Home**

**Chapter Eleven**

**Guardian**

(*)(*)(*)

Bellatrix smirked at the horde of Cultists and Shadows amassed before her, her shadowed silhouette brimming with blood and darkness. She had feasted well, gorging herself on the flesh of innocents as she prepared for this day and now, at long last, she was ready.

Today would mark the dawning of a new era and the twilight of another.

She would have preferred to have more time to prepare but events had transpired that had led to her declaration of war. Katherine Avery had been rescued and there was no telling what she would now be spilling to the Ministry and the Outcasts. Bella was no fool; Scorpius, Draco and Hugo Malfoy, James Potter, The Mudblood, Cassiopeia Potter, they all were powerful individuals who could pose a serious thorn in her sides.

But her plans had been meticulously laid out and they were ready, their dark design to cloud the world in blood and fire would soon come to fruition. The Doors of Death would soon come crashing down and the Legion of Shadows would pour out across the world. The Lord of Shadows would rise again and at long last, the hated concepts of life and love and joy would cease to exist.

Around her stood a team of twelve, Shadows and Cultists, the breaths of the humans misting from the cold brought by her Dementor allies. They had joined her quickly when she had offered them so much more scope for their talents. It was tedious work, after all, to guard a prison and feast on despair in those with one foot already in the grave.

Her task would be the most crucial but at the end of the day, she knew that she would succeed. The Dark Lord had trusted her, had loved her, she was his most faithful servant. The Lord of Shadows had been the same, though he had loved his porcelain bride more than he had relied on her. The thought nagged at her incessantly. She was the Dark Lady; it was her rightful place to lie beside the Lords of Darkness and Shadow as their true mistress.

But now it was her turn to pull the strings and rise. Her lust for the seed of her Lords was still there but buried deep beneath her hatred for the world. Besides, she would soon have her Lord as her puppet if she played her cards right.

She grinned, a maniacal laugh piercing the air as she raised her arms and cause the room to fall silent. They gazed at her expectantly, her dark army.

"Go now," she cackled, her voice so malign and cold that cracks appeared across the length of the walls, "And begin the Age of Shadows."

(*)(*)(*)

Xavier's face creased in a soft smile as he felt his wife squeeze his hand. Though still weak from her captivity, the healers of St. Mungo's had made startling progress in healing her physical ailments. Most recently, they had managed to restore her dentures using a variation of Skele-Grow, and though her sparkling white teeth were a superficial thing, his heart still skipped a beat whenever she smiled at him.

Her mouth had been a raw ruin before the healing, every kiss had been torture on her swollen gums and her few remaining teeth. Now, thanks to the tireless work of Interim Head Healer, Francesca Malfoy, vestiges of her spunky beauty were beginning to surface from beneath her emaciated exterior.

Physically, Katherine was doing fine. Mentally, she was a wreck. Every night, she woke screaming in and needed to be heavily sedated with sleeping potions. His wife had always been a strong, brave person but now she shrank away from anyone who wasn't him. Her parents, Daphne and Theo, had been hysterical when they had discovered the truth of who their daughter was, more so when she began shrieking in fear at the sight of them.

She even cringed whenever Matthew or Riley hugged her or tried to hold her hand. There and then, Xavier had made a vow; the Cultists would pay dearly for hurting Kat almost to the point of no return.

A loud crash caused him to cock his head towards the door, curiosity building as a sound reminiscent of thunder began filtering up from the lower floors. The entire floor shook for a moment and Xavier raised a finger to his lip when his sons started in panic. Riley, ever the more timid of the pair, opened his mouth to scream but was silenced by his brother clapping a trembling hand over his mouth. Xavier barely had time to shoot his eldest a grateful look before the cacophony of sounds was replaced with a deafening silence. Eyebrows narrowed in consternation, he drew his wand as the muffled cries of duelling began to ebb into the quiet.

"What's going on, dad?" whispered Matthew, wincing slightly as Riley bit his palm.

"I don't know," he replied, stunning curse primed as he aimed his wand at the door, "But nothing bad is going to happen to you two." Matthew nodded, though he looked far from reassured. He wasn't still a child like his baby brother. He was almost eleven and he knew that whatever it was that was causing the din was making his father nervous. Kat stirred in her sleep, shivering lightly as the grip of _Dreamless Sleep_ slackened.

"Stufepy!" bellowed Xavier as the door flew open, a jet of red light blasting from his wand with the force of a cannon. The stunning curse whipped through the air, crackling with power and barely missed the dishevelled strawberry blonde, who ducked at the last possible moment.

"XAVIER!" yelled Francesca in alarm and he stepped back in shock when confronted by the sight of the usually serene lady. Her hair was a mess, strands escaping her bun in a manner that absurdly brought the Potter boys to mind. Her green healers robes were soot stained and torn in a few places, the sleeves were badly singed.

"Merlin, Fran," he said in a sheepish tone, quickly becoming serious when he noted her expression, "What the hell is going on?"

"You need to get out of here," she said hurriedly, "All of you . . . We're evacuating the hospital."

"Evacuating the hospital– Cultists," his mind made the connection instantly, his free hand moving to grasp his wife's wrist instantly. Her torturers were in St. Mungo's.

"They're attacking," Francesca replied, "Our security wizards are holding them at the first floor and I sent a Patronus to Hugo but there's too many of them." Xavier could detect the traces of anger in her tone and understood. Despite not having communicated with her during the past two years of their lives, whilst he had been in hiding with his sons, he knew how protective she was of her patients. Patients who were now in grave danger, Kat included.

"There are anti-apparition wards on the building," she continued as he turned to heft Kat into his arms, "We're using the floo."

"And go where?" he asked as she got Matthew and Riley to her side, her wand outstretched in front of her as the quintet began making their way towards the Healers offices, two floors above. The sounds of duelling, coupled with screams of pain, were louder in the corridors. The acrid odour of smoke wafted past his nostrils as they passed a staircase and he grimaced at the signs that the hospital was now on fire.

"You're going to Hogwarts," she sighed, "Most of our patients need medical care and the Hospital Wing is the only place to get it." Turning, they froze at the chaos that littered the upper floors. Healers were racing down the corridors, pushing wheelchair bound patients before them in their zeal to get the sick and injured to safety. The scent of smoke was getting stronger as more of the building took flame, the floors were being littered with shards of broken potion bottles and scraps of parchment.

"And what about you?" he pointed out, not missing the self-omission in her previous statement.

"There are hundreds of patients in here, Xav," she sounded anguished, "I need to stay and help get them out." Her words were punctuated by the piercings screams that could only be invoked by a cruciatus.

"You can't stay here, Fran," Xavier protested, "You have a daughter. You can't put yourself at risk when she needs her mother."

"And you have your sons," snapped Francesca, ushering them into her once immaculate office, now a hive of frenzied activity and chaos, "Get them to safety and I'll meet you at Hogwarts as soon as I'm able."

"Francesca . . ."

"GO!"

And Xavier steadied his grip on his wife, made sure his sons had tight grips upon his waist, before stepping into the fireplace and disappearing with a murmured word and a roar of jade flames.

(*)(*)(*)

"Why can't I touch daddy?" asked Aurora innocently as she perched on her mother's knee. Cassiopeia's lip trembled as she surveyed her daughter, twin black ponytails falling to just below her shoulder blades, wide emerald eyes brimming with childish curiosity. It was all she could do to not burst into tears at the question. Aurora had only just turned nine; she was still too young to understand the finality of death and the intangibility of Shadows.

Not for the first time, Cassiopeia wondered whether keeping her husband's Shadow bound to her heart had been healthy. It was akin to a double edged sword with no hilt, she needed to hold onto it to defend herself but at the same time, she could not grasp it without being cut. Now though, she wondered if she had not irrevocably harmed her daughter by allowing her to hold on to the echo of a father who had died before she had even been born.

"Aurora," she said softly, fighting with every ounce of her concentration to keep her voice from breaking and her composure from slipping, "Daddy isn't really here . . . do you remember the day we went to visit Aunt Rose at Hogwarts?" Aurora nodded.

"Well, daddy is like the Ghosts at the castle," she continued, suddenly freezing when she felt the wards around the Manor trip in half a dozen places. She was on her feet in an instant, thoughts whirring through her head as she tried to make sense of what was going on. Perhaps there was a malfunction on their security wards; surely they couldn't really have been breached in so many locations at once. Malfoy Manor was one of the most secure places in Britain, if not the Wizarding World, it would take an army to break through their defences.

"Albus," she said sharply, the comforting cold of his manifestation filling the air around her as her husband's Shadow flitted to her side, "What's happening?"

"Run . . . Cassie . . ." he murmured . . . "Attackers . . . Dark . . . Lady . . . Shadows . . . coming."

She grabbed her daughter by the wrist as soon as the words escaped his lips. Racing for the floo, she heard the tinkling of glass as the ground floor windows shattered under an onslaught of curses. To be honest, she had no idea who or what was attacking the Manor, nor did she have an inkling as to whom this 'Dark Lady' was. What had registered was that Aurora was in danger and Cassiopeia would be damned before she lost another child.

"Baby, we need to go," she scolded in a high pitched voice as she dragged Aurora into Draco's study and magically barred the door behind them. For security reason, all other fireplaces in the Manor had been locked after Katherine had returned from her mysterious assignment. The Avery brothers had been staying with Hermione and Draco seeing as their mother was in hospital and their father was at her side so the Malfoys had collectively decided to leave only one floo open in case Kat's enemies came after the boys.

"We can't leave Sparkles," whined Aurora, digging her trainers into the lush carpet to try and keep from being pulled. Cassiopeia bit back a snarl as she pointed her wand at her daughter for what she hoped with the only time in her life.

"Aurora Cassiopeia Potter! I will stun you and carry you through that floo if you do not move NOW!"

Less than a minute later, the young girl was hurtling through the roaring jade flames, vanishing as she called out her Uncle Scorpius' work address.

"What . . . doing?" Albus frowned in panic as she began locking the fireplace behind her daughter.

"I can't let them follow her, Albus," she said, her voice thick with emotion as she slashed her wand through the air one final time, "You know there are dark spells that can track her through the floo network if I don't seal it behind her."

"Cassie . . ."

"Let them come, Albus. I'm not afraid of death."

(*)(*)(*)

"I want every auror in the bloody MLE at St. Mungo's RIGHT NOW!" screamed Hugo, a grim feeling of satisfaction overtaking him as the bustling chaos of the Auror Department fell silent. Kingsley, face now heavily wrinkled yet still barrel-chested and stout as ever, returned his piercing glare before nodding. His nod was a silent signal of sorts and within the minute, the aurors were streaming from their cubicles, pulling on field equipment as they headed for the apparition point. Just as Kingsley turned to leave, Hugo yanked him hard by his sleeve so that they were nose to nose.

"Bring my wife home, Shacklebolt, or don't bother coming back at all."

There was a brief silence between the pair before Kingsley nodded once again, this time in understanding, a flash of pity in his eyes as he turned on his heel to join his subordinates.

Turning, he stalked back to his office as fast as he could without rousing suspicion. Already, the news that St. Mungo's was coming under attack by a mysterious group known as the Cult of Shadows had the entire Ministry in turmoil. At times like this it was important for the Department Heads to lead by calm example, even if they were experiencing a whirlwind within.

He cursed under his breath as he passed the Ministry Security Department, the sound of the Wizarding Wireless playing within just adding fuel to the fire.

"**This is Louis Weasley-Jordon, special correspondent for the Wizarding Wireless Network and Junior Editor for Witch Weekly and I'm interrupting your regular scheduled programming to bring you breaking news. St. Mungo's Hospital has recently come under heavy attack by an enigmatic Cult. . . . **

The voice of his once-supposed cousin trailed off as Hugo passed out of earshot. _Bloody media_, he scowled to himself as he finally reached his office. Sadly, as was always the case when things went wrong, it was already occupied.

"Scorpius dispatched the Outcasts to Hogsmeade ," said Draco without preamble, and Hugo frowned at both the words and the pained tone his father's voice was laced with, "We just received word that another group of Cultists are sacking the village."

"They'll never make it to the castle," pointed out Hermione, her eyes staring at her husband in concern as he began to take deep breaths.

"Just indigestion," muttered Draco, waving them off, "I'm not as young as I used to be." Hermione and Hugo both exchanged looks at this, he had been suffering with these pains for a while and they both were becoming extremely worried that he may be seriously ill. It was as Draco had said, he wasn't exactly young anymore and life seemed to be wearing him down.

"Unfortunately, we're still getting nothing but silence from Ghost Division," interrupted James, "The last we heard, Blaise and his inner circle were trapped in his office whilst the rest of their ranks revealed their true colours." As soon as Katherine had revealed that Ghost Division had been infiltrated and swayed against them, James had rallied The Order and prepared his agents for a bloody assault on their headquarters. Unfortunately, there had been a coup before they could act and now Blaise was a prisoner in his own building.

Of course, he could be dead. Having seen what the Cultists were capable of doing to their prisoners first hand, he would prefer that Blaise die rather than suffer. The thought filled him with dread because his nephew was still a prisoner – or possible casualty – of the Cult of Shadows.

"We're spread too thin," pointed out Hermione, "Think about it. The Ministry itself is basically defenceless with our Aurors on the field. The Outcasts are all on the frontlines as well. That leaves most of Malfoy Holdings vulnerable. If they attack anywhere else, all we have is the Order Agents and the basic security wizards."

"Then so are they," replied James, "Their numbers aren't limitless. This is a show of power. They don't have the manpower to win every one of these battles."

"They have Shadows on their sides, James," pointed out Hugo, "I'm sure you remember what Shadows are capable off."

"I know better than most the harm that Shadows can do," James felt the sparks of rage begin to build in his chest. The blatant comment had so intrinsically been aimed at his one real weakness: The guilt he felt for his brother's passing.

"But we can destroy a Shadow," he continued, forcing his anger to settle, "Goblin Made Steel is their weakness."

"Because Goblin Made Steel is just so common, isn't it?" spat Hugo, sarcasm biting through his voice.

"Hugo, there's no other wa–" he was interrupted by the door swinging open to reveal a dishevelled Lucy Scamander. She was one of the Order's best agents, the death of her sister at the hands of Sophia Williams had prompted her to take up a career in Law Enforcement and she had quickly climbed the ranks.

"James," she gasped, clutching at her chest and looking at her boss and cousin, "The Burrow is under attack . . . They're going after Aunt Ginny."

(*)(*)(*)

Albus flashed through the air like a demon, scarlet rivulets streaking from his icy claws as he ripped Cultists to ragged shreds. Blood and darkness seeped through the air, filling him with energy, as for the first time since Cassiopeia had brought him back, he feasted.

His power bubbled within him, hot and torrential, whilst he persevered to protect the woman he loved. Cassie had realised early on that her curses had no effect on Shadows and Albus had moved forward to fight them. The battles were easier than expected though, strangely enough, Albus sometimes saw a fellow Shadow sunder and perish before he even reached it.

He put it down to being drunk on his energies because there was simply no way that he and Cassiopeia had anyone else to assist them now.

Beside him, Cassiopeia slashed her wand through the air with lethal accuracy, her hexes and curses felling all who appeared before her in the doorway. Unlike the Shadows who could enter through the walls, the Cultists were forced to bottleneck themselves in the threshold. This was something that made it easy for Albus to dispatch of any Cultists that Cassie could not whilst still handling the other Shadows.

Both of them knew that there would be no path of survival. The enemy kept coming with no end in sight. They were both fighting for something worth more than their lives, or souls, in Albus' case. They were fighting for their daughter's safety.

But Albus knew that if the chance came to save Cassiopeia, he would leap at it.

He spun through the air, imagining a Shadow explode into a spiralling tower of screaming silver fire – his battle lust really was affecting his mental faculties – and closed his fist around the throat of a Cultist.

"Let him go, or the bitch dies," came a delighted cackle and Albus felt his heart, if he still had one that is, drop from his chest. Turning, he saw Cassiopeia with the savagely sharp claws of Bellatrix Lestrange pressed to her pale throat.

Reluctantly, despite her constant headshaking, he dropped the sleazy Cultist he had been holding.

"Hello, master," simpered Bellatrix, "Time to bring back our Lord. . . Take him."

Before he could react and realise that it wasn't Cassiopeia or Aurora that they were after, he felt lead and acid fill his non-existent veins. It was pain beyond all pain, soon followed by a suffocating redness. He fought to escape the spell, throwing everything he had into his resistance as the circle of Cultists began to draw him into a sparkling red ruby. It reminded him of the muggle fairytale with a Genie trapped inside a tiny oil lamp. Cassiopeia's screams punctuated his every struggled movement.

His last sight before disappearing into red darkness was a jet of light, not quite green and not quite red but every colour in between, strike Cassiopeia Astoria Potter over her heart, causing her to gasp and then crumple to the ground.

(*)(*)(*)

Demitria groans as the masked cultist forces her onto the raised wooden platform beside Remy, the metallic taste of blood heavy on her tongue as the surface they're placed on is levitated high up into the cavernous chamber. Her heart plummets as she realised that they both had been sentenced to die, that this was their execution and not their interrogation.

She had after all, seen this method of torture before.

Chancing a look down, her heart stills as she gazes at the sea of swords, hundreds of razor sharps tips pointed at the sky with hilts buried into the rock. Falling from this height, without magic as they had no wands and the wards prevented them from casting wandlessly, would kill them in seconds.

It was an agonisingly painful way to go, especially as the specific enchantments on the platform kept them both from falling at once. Whoever fell second would have to watch their partners die in excruciating torment. But from her six-months undercover, she knew that there was a way out of this machination.

Just one though. And it had a very high price.

"Any bright ideas?" asked Remy, scowling as Cultists and Shadows began to assemble in the roughly hewn benches to watch them die.

"I have one," she murmured, drawing in close so that she could capture his lips with her own. Slowly, she began focusing her magical energy to her heart. The wards prevented her from casting outwardly but she had found that she could still manipulate the flow of energy _within_ her own body. Demitria knew that if she released her energy all at once in the form of a mana bomb then she would no doubt break the wards and enchantments, thus allowing apparition. And she knew of only one way to activate such a bomb when under the effect of anti-magic wards.

Remy looked at her curiously when they broke apart, his eyes searching for a hint that she was serious but she kept her face perfectly blank. Her lips trembled as somehow, she managed to pluck up the courage she had been lacking for the better part of the past decade.

"I love you, Remy Lupin," she whispered, her breath ghosting across his skin as she took a step back and fell.

"DEMITRIA!" he screamed, lunging forward and clutching at empty air as she plummets to the blade strewn ground. He stretches out his arm as he falls to his hands and knees in a pointless attempt to reach for her but it was already too late.

He saw the burning light within her chest, directly over her heart, as her magic coalesced as was focused inward into a shimmering inferno of raw energy. He screamed, again and again, as his hoarse cries tore bloody strips through his dry throat.

A trickle of blood dribbled from his open mouth as his shrieks bounced across the massive cabin, punctuated by the delighted cackling of the Cultists as Demitria smiled.

She gave to him her final smile and he gave to her his breaking heart as the tips of a dozen swords pierced her slender frame. Blood blossomed across her clothes and the shadow of the wolf flitted across his face as he howled in grief, his eyes darkening from a pale, sky blue into a burning amber.

A dry whoosh of hair fluttered through the room as her heart stilled, raising the fine hairs on the back of his neck. The room was silent, the Cultists and Shadows staring hurriedly as his tears fell like rain over her slowly burning body.

_Burning?_

The energy that she had forced inwards came crashing out in a single wave of unbridled fury, tearing stone, metal and even magic apart in its devastating majesty. The anti-apparition wards sunder and Remy feels a dull, nauseating feeling begin to overwhelm him as his apparition begins to take effect. Shards of twisted metal and chunks of stone are flying through the air and a massive rumbling is filling the chamber as millennia of labyrinthine caverns come caving in from the force of the explosion.

"I love you, Demi," he whispered as his gut twisted in agony, a fragment of a sword piercing his abdomen in a splash of hot blood, before the suffocating sensation of apparition pulled him from the Halls of Death and Shadows.

(*)(*)(*)

Cassiopeia stirred, her fingers twitching against the frosted marble tiles as her eyelids crack open. Her breath misted from between her blue lips, tiny flakes of snow forming as the vapour met the icy air that held the Manor in a smothering embrace. She tried to rise and cursed loudly as her entire body heaved in agony, her voice cutting her hoarse throat as it spilled forth.

She had never before felt as weak and despondent as she had in that moment of her life. A part of her, the part that held her sense of Slytherin self-preservation begged for her to get up and seek out her daughter, to see if Aurora was well. But the majority of her being held her in its thrall because the one thought that echoed through her mind was:

_I failed you again, Albus._

For the second time she hadn't been able to save her husband. She could still hear his high-pitched screams, like fingernails on a blackboard, as Bellatrix had ensnared him with her traps. She could still feel the spray of hot blood against her face from when he had woven around the room, claws trailing ribbons of scarlet as they shredded Cultist skin and bone.

She had failed Albus. She had failed Leo. She had failed Aurora.

Her body was numb and unresponsive and she slowly trailed her arm across the floor, stained red from frozen blood, a faint spark of warmth filling her as her fingers closed around the handle of her wand. For the first time, she wondered why it was so cold.

"_I'm sorry," he mumbled, a broken boy upon the forest floor, the forest that for an acre around them was now a barren wasteland. The moon shone tenderly over the two of them, lighting her hair and making her seem a goddess amongst mortals. _

"_Please Albus," she said, her voice thick with emotion as she knelt beside him and took him in her arms, he wrapped his own around her, not caring that the fabric of her clothing was pure torture against the shredded skin on his hands, "I can't lose you too Al."_

"_I'm sorry . . . I'm sorry . . . I'm sorry," he cried softly into her ears, and she was crying things too, whispering things he didn't hear because he was too lost in his own exodus. _

A harsh gasp escaped her lips, a strangled sob as the memory tore through her. Her tears were freezing on her cheeks as they slid unchecked and for the first time it all made sense: The biting cold, the sense of dread and hopelessness, the onslaught of her worst memories.

Dementors.

Of all the emotions that could have flooded her, she would never have expected relief to be the foremost one. Cassiopeia felt relieved that the mongrel beasts that fed on happiness and warmth were here to take from her, her life, her soul. She deserved her rest, did she not?

It may be just a decade without her husband and son but to the widowed Potter, those ten years had felt like a thousand.

But the spark within her grew as did her sense of relief, filling her with a desire to fight to save herself so that she could remain alive for her daughter. She ignored the burgeoning hope for a simple reason; you need a Patronus charm to fight Dementors.

And whilst she had a wand, Cassiopeia hadn't been able to conjure her patronus since the day her husband had died atop the Astronomy Tower of Hogwarts.

Scraggly fingers claw her cheeks as they cradled her face and she felt her very essence being sucked away into a maw of desecration. Her breath slowed as did her heart, her skin paling to blue as the cold began to creep into her veins.

Then her eyes widened as warmth flooded her form and the cloud of Dementors were sent careening backwards through the air in swirls of gossamer white light. Her heartbeat increased so very drastically as her eyes focused upon her saviour that for a brief moment, she entertained the notion that it may cease to pump blood altogether.

He was standing before her, spectral as a Shadow but as bright as an angel, sixteen and silhouetted by pure white light that burned brighter than the morning sun. His platinum hair is dishevelled and his emerald eyes burn with anger and hatred and flecks of mercurial silver.

Cassiopeia recalls the last conversation she had had with her father and stepmother and she realises what it is that has stood to defend her.

_Daemon. Guardian Spirit. Son._

"Get the fuck away from my mother," snarls her guardian angel as his ethereal, otherworldly magic flares and wreathes them both in rings of silver fire. The Dementors scatter and flee, their tattered cloaks singed and burned by the intensity of the ghostly blaze.

She smiled at her son, the ghostly image of him, and then her eyes slipped shut as the world went black.

(*)(*)(*)

_**A/N: Thoughts?**_


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

**Master and Mistress of Death**

Lily stifled a groan as she was roused, blinking as she rubbed her eyes to try and diminish the feeling of grains of sand stuck to her eyelids. She climbed out of bed, glaring at the full moon which shone through her bedroom window and scowled at the obvious reminder of the time. Judging by the fact that the moon had just reached its apex, she was able to conclude that it was midnight which led her to ask herself the very important question:

Why would somebody be knocking on her front door at this ungodly hour?

Of course, then the full severity of the situation struck her. Scorpius and James were still in Hogsmeade, dealing with the aftermath of the Cultist's assault. She had only fallen into restless slumber when after many long hours of keeping vigil at her fireplace for word from them, her eyes had grown too heavy to remain open. She had already dosed her niece, Aurora, with a vial of _Dreamless Sleep _and put the girl to bed in Orion's room – the attack of Malfoy Manor had been a shock to them all. It was one of the most secure locales in Britain, if not the world, and it troubled Lily deeply that it had been so easily breached.

She had been thankful that Cassiopeia had been still alive when Draco and a token force of Order Agents had braved the storm to recover her, though it had been a strike to her heart that she had been rendered catatonic by the severity of the attack. It was just a stroke of luck that she had been in Scorpius' office, closing up in the wake of the first wave of attacks, when Aurora had flown through the floo in a storm of jade flame and tears.

She would floo to the Ministry in the morning, where an emergency medical centre had been set up to care for the wounded and those evacuated from St. Mungo's, and see what she could do to help. Ideally, she would have gone now but someone had to remain behind to tend to the children. Almost every adult in her family and her fiancés family were knee deep in either fighting back the Cultists or helping those that were wounded, meaning that many of her nieces and nephews needed babysitting.

Lily slipped on her shoes, a pair of sandals, and stuck her wand into the waistband of her silky shorts – one could never be too careful when living alone these days – before she made the tiresome trek to the front door, fully intent on giving her unwelcome visitor a thorough tongue-lashing for waking her at this late hour. She would be furious if the frantic knocking woke any of the children she had already settled down for the night. Throwing open the door, her angry words vanished in an instant as she caught sight of the trickling blood framing her visitors lean face.

"Aunt Lily, thank Merlin" he managed with a ghost of a relieved smile before slumping forward. She grabbed him hastily as he fell, her breath catching as she took in his shredded clothes, torn skin and blood matted green hair. Lily struggled under his weight, her petite frame significantly dwarfed by his lithely muscled body as she half-dragged, half-carried him to the sleeper couch in her living room and settled him down as best she could. A dry hiss left his split lips as his raw back made contact with the cream velvet of the upholstery. She saw red in that moment, realising that he had been whipped at some point in the last few days.

"Remy," Lily's voice broke as she kneeled beside the couch so that her face was level with his prone body, "What happened to you?" Without thinking she was moving her wand through the air in an effort to staunch his bleeding and seal his wounds. Her question was only met with another hiss of pain before his eyes fluttered shut. Her heart plummeted for a moment before she noticed that he was still breathing. Remy seemed to have just lost consciousness, but at the same time, Lily noted how weak and erratic his heartbeat sounded.

"Expecto Patronum," she said, her voice breaking as the opalescent dove flew forth from the tip of her wand and landed upon her shoulder, its luminescent beak nudging at her cheek as it awaited her message.

"Victoire Lupin," she said, biting her lip as she pressed a throw-pillow against the deep gash – a stab wound that ran cleanly from front to back – on his abdomen, her heart sinking as it instantly began soaking through with blood, "Remy's at my apartment . . . He's is bad shape, please hurry." The dove inclined its head before taking off, leaving a gossamer trail through the air as it flew.

Remy shifted, his body subconsciously flinching as Lily aimed her wand at his wound and sealed them with heat, burning the flesh to keep more of her nephew's life's blood from spilling. His shriek of pain tore through the room and she was dimly aware of the sounds of scurrying feet emanating from the next room, the young metamorphmagus' screams having roused the children.

"Colloportus," she flicked her wand at the doors, causing them to slam shut and lock to keep the children in their rooms. She really didn't want them seeing Remy like this and being scarred for life. They would be fine, she reasoned as she tore of Remy's blood crusted shirt to inspect the worst of the damage; Trystane was ten and Amoretta – the eldest daughter of Fred II and Olivia Weasley – had just turned eleven. The pair would be able to calm the younger ones, as would Aurora, who was quite precocious for her age.

Her mouth went dry at the extent of the damage, mottled bruises and sluggishly bleeding cuts covered his pale chest, which had begun taking on a sickly greyish hue as his metamorphmagus genes began to physically reflect the state of his health. His neon green hair was already fading to ash and when she pressed her palm over one of the larger incisions to stem the blood-flow, she felt cracks ribs sliding beneath.

"Demitria . . ." Remy moaned in his unconsciousness, and Lily could see the anguish etched so clearly on his young face, "Demi . . . please . . . please. . ."

(*)(*)(*)

"Harry," Lily's voice quavered with emotion as she came to kneel beside her son, her translucent skin beginning to thrum with light, crescendos of white and gold spilling forth and throwing back the gloom of the salt-stained cell.

Her son rose to his feet, emaciated and skeletal, the blood of his breakfast still clinging to his lips as he turned to face her, eyes heavy and bruised from lack of sleep. His nightmares had been getting progressively worse these past few weeks, the memories of his failings clawing at every fragment of his being. Lily knew that it was her continued presence that was causing him such pain, her celestial aura banishing the darkness that had for so long lingered in the air. Her light, as a Daemon, washed away his superficial, physical ailments and by doing so, she found that it allowed his tormented subconscious to surface. Without having to focus wholly on his aches and pain, Harry was given more time to be wracked by his guilt and the traces of a happier time.

"They have the Mistress of Death," her voice was surprisingly steady when next she spoke, taking heart at the way her son's eyes steeled at the thought. They had spoken long and hard – when Harry's mental faculties permitted lucid conversation – and they knew what The Dark Lady would try to do.

Hallows. Harry had united them and mastered Death but by doing so, he had also made his consort Death's Mistress.

Lily often questions the decisions that had guided her to this cell, the choices that had led her to seek out her son rather than move to directly oppose The Dark Lady. It was a simple answer, had she fought Bellatrix, she would have perished and then there would be nobody to stand in the way of the Cult of Shadows. Just like every battle that had been fought across the eons, whenever the primordial forces of Light and Darkness had clashed, the war would be fought on earth.

The war would have to be fought, not prevented, because if they should manage to defeat the darkness now, then it would be an end to the suffering that had for so long encapsulated the world. Should they fail, however, no . . . Lily did not want to consider the price of failure.

"Can we do nothing?" asked Harry, and Lily was proud to hear the resigned bitterness in his voice. It was the easier path that would lead to saving the Mistress of Death and sparing the vessel of The Lord of Shadows and her son had for so long taken the easy path in his life. But now . . . now he was finally choosing to do what was right.

"You know the answer to that, Harry," she said softly, and two pairs of emerald eyes met in silent agreement.

"Will you stay with me?" he whispered, and there was fear laced through his raspy voice, terror of the otherworldly consequences he would face beyond the Veil. Lily reached out, warm tears hanging from the corners of her eyes as she reached out and cupped his cheek. She may not be able to truly touch him, but of course, the gesture was all that truly mattered in a moment such as this.

"Always," Lily choked out the last word, pride and sadness so evident in her voice in equal measure that for the first time in a decade, a smile creased Harry's tired face.

"Thank you," he muttered, before he turned away from her and cried out a command, his voice broken and torn from a throat dry as bone yet strong with the majesty and bravery that made him deserving of the name _Potter_.

"HALLOWS THREE, UNITED BY ME, AS MASTER, I COMMAND YOU, DEATH I WISH TO SEE."

The air rippled in the onslaught of a power far older than the bones of the earth from which the cavern had been carved, the water freezing, the moist dankness of the caverns beginning to solidify into specks of snow and ice. It was not cold, for that term implied that there was some semblance of misplaced warmth. No, this was the pure absence of heat, a feeling so bitingly intense that Lily, a Daemon of the highest order, felt her light begin to dim.

She watched as Harry shivered, his skin already turning blue as the blood began to congeal within his veins, his bones becoming brittle, his organs filling with shards of ice as the fluids froze within.

"Death," he gasped, "I command a soul be given flesh, heed me, obey, and be Mastered no more."

Tattered robes of darkest night, the fabric twisting and shifting as if weaved from the souls of the rightfully damned, Death, oldest and most fundamental of all the primordial entities, appeared before Harry Potter. Death was faceless, his hood pulled over a silhouette so shadowed that the robes appeared empty . . . but his claws were long and bony and sharp, five scythes growing upon each hand.

"_Magnus est, gratia et revertere in amplexu natum Peverell firmetur percuti adventrit,"_ Death spoke and in that moment Lily saw a blank expanse of darkness, quickly flaring with light as spheres of coalescing gas began to fill the dimension, lit now by stars and a sun. Then she watched a world be born and live and die, the sun slowly growing and then erupting in Supernova, but there were other worlds and other suns, all of which were created and destroyed over eons whilst Death itself remained constant and powerful.

_The first true immortal, _Lily shuddered as she tried to nurture the few sparks within her, fighting to sustain herself in the face of Death.

Then Harry stepped forward and Death reached out its arms, billowing robes of shifting souls wrapping around her son like blankets as he softened into Death's warm embrace. The world seemed to shudder and turn in upon itself for the briefest of moments, as a cloak shrivelled and fell to dust, a stone split in two and a wand shattered into splinters of elder wood. Then the world was righted as far away, across the storm-torn seas, a Daemon gasped and fell over, the breath of life entering his lungs and veins.

"It is done," said Death, and then the warmth returned to the cell as her ghostly tears began to fall, for like Ignatius, her son had gone willingly, greeting Death as an old friend.

(*)(*)(*)

Aurora froze, her eyes dropping open in shock as she contemplated the person standing across the room from her. He was staring out the window, not seeming to realise that she had turned back from the door and seen him. Her breath hitched in her throat, her heart seemed to stop and it took every shred of her will for her to not to rush forward and fling herself onto him.

He had the same shade of white hair that her mummy did, but it looked so much like daddy's. And she had seen him before, he had been there her whole life, unseen and unheard yet watching over both her mother and herself.

He had saved their mummy when she was falling down the stairs; he had been standing beside their daddy's grave the day she had wanted to play with daddy. She had seen him once in the library at home, even though she wasn't allowed to go into the library, when he seemed to be trying to use magic to drop a book from a shelf. A soft gasp left her lips as she watched him sink to his knees, groaning before righting himself and freezing at the sight of her staring.

His eyes widened as he took in the awe-struck expression on her porcelain features. Swallowing, he stepped forward and when her eyes moved with him, he froze as again.

"You can see me?" he asked, his voice breaking slightly, thick with emotion. He took a tentative step forward, his dishevelled hair standing up on end as only a Potters could.

"Always," she whispered, starting as she realised that his green eyes now shone ghostly blue. She frowned at the colour, the only place she had only ever seen it before was in the graveyard. Too her, it was the colour of death but it couldn't be, because _his_ eyes were green not blue.

Why were they different?

Her lip trembled as she forced herself to walk towards him, tears spilling hanging from the corners of her emerald eyes like vines of twisting ivy. Her blood raced through her veins as she took him in, his sapphire blue eyes drawing her forward as if she was metal and he was a magnet.

Shivering, she reached up on her tip toes, her fingers grazing the bottom of his cheek and he winced slightly under her touch before starting in shock. But it was too late and her tears were falling like rain because he was warm under her fingertips, free of the icy stain of the grave. She buried her face into him as wrapped her arms around him, crying softly into his jacket, not bothering to ask herself how this was possible, how was he alive? Because her mummy had told her that _he_ had died before she was born. But she had missed him so much without knowing him, drawing him in her pictures and visiting his grave alone when she had the chance to escape Grandma Hermione.

Because he was Leo, he was her brother.

"You can touch me?" he asked again and his voice cracked as he wrapped his arms around her, blinking away his own tears as he held her. He was taller than her by a fair few feet; he could feel her . . . he could touch her without hurting her. . .

"I can," smiled Aurora as she held her brother for the first time in her life.

Leo Albus Potter never loosened his grip as he clung to his sister, the sister he had spent years watching over, as he dropped to his knees and cried into her shoulder as she did the same to his because he didn't know how or why he was able to touch and speak to her.

All he knew was that he had finally gotten a chance to hug his baby sister.

(*)(*)(*)

Bellatrix grinned in delight as she her supplicants drew themselves away from the circle of runes that she had had them so painstakingly draw with the blood of seven virgins. At long last, her plans were coming to fruition. At long last, she would reign as a dark queen, a goddess who would shroud the world in darkness.

And she would have The Lord of Shadows at her side.

The cultists circled the runes, their breath misting in the chill wrought by the presence of so many Shadows. Their silhouettes, dark and incandescent in the gathering twilight, flitted from bough to bough as their grave-stained touch blacked the leaves and spread death and decay amidst the fruits and blooming flowers.

They were joyous this night, for the Lord would be returned to them in all his dark glory.

"Bring forth the bitch," cackled Bella, disguising her contempt when a collective shudder passed through her human supplicants, all terrified by the harshness of her voice. She knew many had only joined her so as to secure their places in the new world order. Foolish of them, really, for Bella planned to soon separate the wheat from the chaff until only that which was strong and truly loyal to her would survive.

She would fashion a new world, of which she would be the Goddess and The Lord of Shadows would be her consort. The thought made her giddy with demented glee. Because she knew, as the world knew, that Albus Severus Potter was more powerful than Voldemort had ever been.

A strangled shriek split the air, causing her to turn her attention towards the battered hostage that her Cultists had captured. Her red hair ran streaked with grey, falling across her wrinkled, freckled face as she spat and struggled, a Gryffindor Princess to the last.

Bella flitted towards her and made to slap her, solidifying her personal brand of Shadow magic to allow her claws to tear bloody furrows across the woman's cheek. Her first master had given her the inspiration for this spell, and Voldemort's greatest enemy had given her the tools to see it through.

"If it isn't the Weaselette," grinned Bellatrix with a sugary lilt as she leaned in to lap at the furiously pumping blood that cascaded down Ginny's cheeks. Her jovial mood quickly turned sour when a mouthful of broken teeth, blood and spit flew through insubstantial face.

"Bitch," snarled Bella, "Blood Traitor! I should have killed you when I had the chance!"

"But it was my mother who killed you," taunted Ginny, shrieking as Bella's second slap tore out her other cheek.

"Bring her to the circle," said Bella, turning and flitting to the edges of the bloody runes. Three of her supplicants came forward, each holding a talisman that would be required for her spell. Bella laughed, a high cold crackle like iron nails against your spine, as she realised that she was less than an hour away from succeeding.

"_Bone of the son, unknowingly taken," _she intoned, the runes flaring with trails of scarlet flame as the first Cultists tossed in a handful of tiny, grisly white tokens. She wondered absently if Ginevra recognized the skeletal remains of her miscarried grandson.

"_Soul of the fallen, unwillingly restrained," _her voice echoed across the still night, the flaming runes burning brighter as the Soul Jewel that had been used to capture Albus' Shadow was tossed into the conflagration. Bellatrix looked at her bleeding hostage and wondered if it would be worth the risk to tell Ginevra whose soul was but a few feet away from her. She decided against it, she had come too far to risk anything.

"_Flesh of the servants, willingly given," _and the air filled with screams of horror as all three of her supplicants stepped forward and drove silver blades into their bellies. With surprising calmness they fell into the fire, their flesh crackling as it blackened and spat.

"What is this madness?" stammered Ginny, for once at a loss for words, revulsion and bile filling her throat.

"Tell me, Ginevra," said Bellatrix sweetly, "What would you give to give your son life again?"

"Anything," spat Ginny, not comprehending what Bella had just implied, too stubborn and full of rage to allow The Dark Lady to throw her dead son into her face. She spat again, a globule of red sailing through Bella's breast and splattering across the leafy ground.

"That's all I needed to know," laughed Bella, her arms lashing out, tearing out Ginevra's throat in a gout of hot crimson and a gurgled scream. Blood spouted hot and wet into the fire, which exploded into a swirling column of flame as the first drops of Ginevra's blood hissed into the blaze.

"_Life of Death's Mistress, Sacrificed in love's name."_

The flames burned black, pure bonefyre, and Bella let out a delighted squeal of ecstasy as they parted and _he _stepped forth.

Merlin and Morgana, forbid, but Albus Potter rose, his eyes darker than night, not a single vestige of white filling the soulless depths, framed by shaggy, raven hair and pale, lightly tanned skin.

"My Lady," he said, in a voice soft as sin and twice as deadly, his voice devoid of all emotion, as he dropped to one knee and bowed his head, "I am yours to command."

(*)(*)(*)

_**A/N: Thoughts? Next Chapter is the Epilogue to Call Me Home. **_

_**Book 3: The Ghost Prince, will have no time jump and will take of instantly after the events of the upcoming Epilogue. **_


	14. Epilogue

**Call Me Home**

**Epilogue**

**Lament of the Dragon**

Draco sighed as he stepped into his makeshift study at _The Rose,_ his wife's hotel and their current residence till Malfoy Manor was repaired. His chest tightened slightly, the stress of the past few days lying heavy on his heart as he settled into the soft leather seat behind his desk and glared at the pile of paperwork that had been left on there for him to peruse. Damage reports and expense accounts, he screwed up his nose at them, for he didn't need to read their finely printed words to know what the Cultist assault had cost.

When the Cult of Shadows had stormed Hogsmeade, many of the Hogwarts professors had hastened to aid in the village's defence. His daughter, Rose, had been amongst those who had stood defiant against the rampaging forces of Darkness and had been tortured before Scorpius and the Outcasts could arrive to reinforce their position. She was at Hogwarts now, shaken yet thankfully alive.

And of course, those more brawn than brains Gryffindors had snuck out of the castle to help fight the Cultists. Draco for his part truly did not want to be one to break the news to Lily that Orion had taken a cruciatus curse during the fighting. Damn the boy, he was too young and unskilled to have been fighting, damn him and damn the secret passages of Hogwarts for allowing so many of the House of Red and Gold to arrive at the fighting.

At least his grandson was still alive . . . so many other students had perished at the hands of the Shadows. James had discovered their weakness during his time rescuing Katherine, goblin made weapons could kill Shadows, but there were very few of those weapons lying around for them to use.

Scorpius and Hugo were both worse for wear, though one had been scarred physically and the others torment had been mental. Hugo was even now sitting beside Francesca's bed in the Hogwarts Hospital Wing, praying that his wife survived her grievous injuries. Scorpius on the other hand had been hit by a _Sectumsempra _in defence of Orion and only Edward Lupin's quick thinking had saved him.

Cassiopeia, he didn't even know by what miracle it had been that she had survived.

When Lily's patronus had reached him that the Manor was under attack and that Aurora was the only one who had come through the floo before it had been sealed, his heart had twisted as if ensnared by a writhing python. He had gone himself, despite his attaches and aides telling him that as Minister he should send others in his place. Cassie was his baby girl, even if she was in her early thirties and widowed, he would trust no other man to save her.

His heart had plummeted when he first saw her upon the ground, apparently lifeless in a room of fire, ice and blood. But beneath her frosted skin and bloodstained clothing, her heart still beat with the faintest traces of life; enough to sustain her till Draco had managed to get her to Hogwarts.

He knew what the fight had cost him . . .

Why could his children not be happy? Was this the price for his sins as a Death Eater?

And then the coup de grace, the news that Leo Albus Potter was alive, reincarnated as a sixteen year old in his son and future daughter-in-law's penthouse. It was a lot to process, a bittersweet harmony that made him want to laugh as much as it made him want to cry. A soft burning sensation flitted across abdomen and chest, indigestion plaguing him as it always did when his anxiety flared.

A wave sweat broke across his brow as he felt a creeping numbness snake across his arms, lingering offshoots of pain filling his chest as his heart clenched painfully in his chest. Draco made to stand, so as to retrieve a glass of water, but the world swam around him as he was overtaken by a wave of dizziness.

A grunt of pain escaped his lips as he dropped to his knees, his fingers overcome with spasms as they clutched at his aching chest.

The Malfoy patriarch opened his mouth to cry for help but his mouth was dry as sandpaper and his voice was like shattered shards of glass. Running footsteps fill the hallway beyond the study as he knocks over an ornate vase whilst falling onto his side. Draco stared blankly as his door was thrown open, unsure of why his wife had a look of such horror on her face.

Then he felt it and knew it for what it was, that bitter feeling of a hand clenched around his heart, tightening as to keep it from beating. He fought for breath as he twitched upon the rich carpet, clutching at his chest to try and ebb the pain caused by a slowly stilling heart.

The world spun blurrily around him as a crying face fills his vision, her more grey than chocolate curls framing her slightly crooked teeth, a vision of loveliness, an angel sent to speed him on his way. He heard her voice screaming for help and saw the spilt coffee from _her_ cup as it rolled across the floor from where she had dropped it. The hallway is filling with the sound of rampaging footfalls, dozens of people coming to see why it is that Hermione Malfoy is screaming with such terrified anguish. It was like a distant echo, a dull pitter-patter when compared to the roaring filling his ears. He looked up at her and tried to smile, a smile that was stained and marred by his pain.

He felt the world slipping through his fingers like grains of sand, he hears her pleading for him to do something – he doesn't quite hear what it is she's pleading for – and he senses a pair of hands pumping at his straining chest.

Draco Malfoy would have laughed at the irony if he was able, because he had descended so deeply into the muggle world, was not his method of passing so true to form

_A heart attack. . . _

_Such a muggle way to go._

**-End: Book 2 – Call Me Home**

**-Next in the Series: Book 3 – The Ghost Prince (Too be published within the week)**

**(*)(*)(*)**

**A/N: Reviews are appreciated. I would like to hear your thoughts about this arc of the Lord of Shadows Series. . . **


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